THE  WAY  OF  THE  NORTH 


Historical  Series 


THE 

WAY  OF  THE  NORTH 

A  L  A  S  K  A— Baranof 


By 

WARREN 


New  York 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 
1906 


Copyright,  1905,  by 

'Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 

Published,  March,  1905 


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S 


C 


V- 


CONTENTS 

•AFTER  PAGB 

I  ...  3 

II 16 

III 27 

IV 37 

V 57 

VI 70 

VII 85 

VIII 94 

IX 108 

X 123 

XI 135 

XII 148 

XIII 165 

XIV 183 

XV  •       •        192 


CONTENTS— Continued 

CHAPTER  PAG» 

XVI 211 

XVII 231 

XVIII  ........  246 

XIX 266 

XX 279 

XXI 296 

XXII  308 


LIST  OF  CHARACTERS 

ALEXANDER  ANDREIEVITCH  BARANOF,  Commander  of 
the  Alaskan  Posts 

FEDOR  KIRILOVITCH  DELAROF,  a  doctor 

ALEXEI  YEGOROVITCH  SOOKIN,  Lieutenant  under 
Baranof 

JOASSAF  PETROVITCH,  a  priest  of  the  Russian  Church 

ANNA  MARYA  GARIN  (ANNA  GREGOROVNA),  betrothed 
to  Lieutenant  Sookin 

MARFA  EKATERINA  (MARFA  ALEXANDROVNA), 
daughter  of  Baranof 

GREGOR  IVANOVITCH  GARIN,  father  of  Anna 

PAUL  ALEXANDROVITCH,  Baranof's  son 

MARYA  ANDREIEVNA,  Marfa's  aunt 

PETER  NICOLAIEVITCH,  an  under-officer 

POTAP  BURIKOF,  and  LIZA,  his  wife,  Russian  im 
migrants 

DMETRI  LEROKEN,  ARSENI  KUZNETZOF,  VASILI 
SHAPKIN,  IVAN  ZAVIALOF,  soldier-hunters 

SHAKMUT,  NIKTA,  PARKA,  Alaskan  natives 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  NORTH 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  NORTH 
CHAPTER  I 

THE  cabin  floor  being  now  more  level,  I  walked 
up  and  down  along  the  tables  to  stretch  my 
legs  and  stir  somewhat  to  life  the  sluggish  cur 
rent  of  my  blood.  There  are  few  things  more  bitter 
than  the  forced  inaction  of  waiting  below  hatches  while 
the  ship  wears  out  a  storm.  Under  their  brightest 
guise  these  northern  waters  have  much  about  them  to 
terrify  the  heart.  There  is  something  sombre,  wild,  and 
menacing  in  their  calmness,  and  always  a  so  inhuman 
silence  in  the  air  that  the  very  lack  weighs  on  the  spirit 
like  a  sense  of  evil  felt.  One  seems  so  utterly  alone — 
the  only  living  thing  in  all  this  treacherous  expanse. 

So,  even  while  the  skies  were  fair,  it  was  with  a  dis 
tinct  feeling  of  relief  that  I  had  welcomed  the  gathering 
clouds  and  the  freshening  of  the  wind  that  brought  the 
storm  upon  us.  Life  has  no  actual  experience  of  danger 
that  is  for  a  moment  comparable  to  the  heart-sickness 
of  its  anticipation,  and  the  singing  of  the  ropes,  the 
sharp  orders  of  the  officers  in  charge,  the  bustle  of 
orderly  haste  in  taking  in  the  canvas,  steadied  my  soul 
and  stirred  a  curious  sense  of  lightness  in  my  heart. 

"The  world  moves,"  I  said,  as  I  stood  by  the  rail  and 
watched  the  whip  of  the  spume  from  the  crests  of  the 
racing  waves  and  the  increasing  slant  of  the  ship  as  she 
drove  her  nose  down  into  the  ever-deepening  hollows. 

3 


4  The  Way  of  the  North 

That  night  the  sun  set  far  astern  without  its  usual  pomp 
of  colour,  letting  down  its  round  disc  naked  into  the 
sea.  There  was  no  more  warmth  in  its  light  than  there 
was  in  the  sallow  background  of  cloud  that  hung  behind 
it  and  seemed  momentarily  lifted  higher  above  our 
heads.  The  last  thing  I  saw  as  I  turned  to  go  below 
was  the  wind-blown  figure  of  the  man  at  the  helm  sil 
houetted  against  the  western  whiteness  and  bent  like  a 
distressed  cypress  as  he  held  us  to  our  course.  Had  I 
been  older  or  more  seasoned,  I  should  have  seen  in 
these  things  the  sinister  presentiment  of  the  trouble  that 
was  to  come.  But  for  the  moment  there  only  came  to 
me  the  feeling  that  there  were  things  doing  in  earth  and 
air  and  sky,  and  my  heart  warmed  to  them  in  sym 
pathy,  through  sheer  impatience  of  the  sluggish  life. 

But  death  itself  is  not  more  certain  than  that  a  man 
will  change  his  mind.  I  had  thought  myself  well 
pleased  with  the  promise  of  the  storm,  and,  in  retiring, 
endured  with  even  humour  the  roll  and  tossing  of  the 
berth.  But  with  the  night  my  inclination  turned,  and  I 
yearned  as  strongly  for  the  quiet  of  the  sunshine  and  the 
level  sea,  as  before  I  had  cried  out  at  fate  for  setting 
them  around  me. 

For  who  could  have  foreseen  the  mist  that  set  in  with 
the  dawn — a  mist  so  thick  and  smothery  that  it  choked 
and  clung  like  a  wet  cloth  drawn  ?  I  could  scarce  see 
my  hand  at  arm's  length  before  me;  the  sailors  at  their 
posts  faded  into  mere  shadowy  ghosts;  while  the  voice 
of  the  lookout  at  the  bow  quavered  back  to  us  so  thin 
and  muffled  that  it  was  like  a  call  from  another  world. 
Yet  the  fog  offered  small  hindrance  to  the  roaring  wind; 
and  from  the  top  it  leaked  so  like  a  sieve  that  the  rain 
came  through  in  mighty  sheets  and  gusts. 


The  Way  of  the  North  5 

There  is  much  to  disquiet  in  the  thought  of  thus 
driving  madly  and  blindly  through  the  world;  and  the 
more  so  when  to  the  irk  of  mind  is  added  the  natural 
disquietude  of  body  that  comes  with  confinement  under 
decks.  I  have  not  the  preacher's  fear  of  death  and 
have  faced  it  cheerfully  and  with  a  steady  front.  But 
I  have  ever  prayed  that  at  the  last  it  would  come  to  me 
fairly,  in  the  open,  where  I  could  meet  it  with  head  up 
and  arms  free  to  guard.  These  four  shifting  walls 
have  \veighed  on  my  spirits  like  a  coffin  closed.  I  have 
never  had  a  stomach  for  being  smothered  like  a  rat 
drowned  in  a  trap.  Two  days  of  it  would  take  the 
fettle  out  of  any  man,  and  nearly  twice  that  time  I  have 
been  prisoned  here. 

And  the  vexation  works  the  stronger  in  me  that  by 
chance  I  have  had  my  fall  with  it  alone.  The  pope, 
bold-faced  enough  when  skies  were  clear,  paled  like  a 
girl  when  the  wind  shook  up  our  coffin  box  and  let  the 
courage  so  ooze  out  of  him  that  at  last  he  sat  him  down 
on  the  floor  the  better  to  hold  his  swimming  head. 
Motion  brings  to  me  no  dizzy  qualms,  and  I  strove 
patiently  both  with  threats  and  jeers  to  rebuff  his  malady 
and  lift  him  from  dejection.  But  with  the  shameless- 
ness  toward  correction  which  marks  the  sick  at  sea,  he 
harkened  to  me  with  but  lack-lustre  eyes  and  languid 
smile,  and  ended  by  selfishly  leaving  me  alone  while  he 
carried  his  green  face  incontinently  away  to  the  shelter 
of  his  own  room ;  since  when  I  have  had  no  word  of  his 
condition. 

That  there  has  been  sharp  danger  in  our  situation  I 
am  as  well  convinced  as  if  I  had  been  told.  It  has 
spoken  in  the  groaning  of  the  ship's  timbers  as  they  bent 
and  stretched  beneath  the  shock  of  the  waves;  it  has 


6  The  Way  of  the  North 

lurked  in  the  stagger  of  the  helpless  hull  when  the  water 
poured  over  her  decks  and  she  wallowed  in  the  bubbly 
smother  like  some  desperate  drowning  thing;  it  has 
come  to  me  with  each  sickening  drop  down  the  steep 
hollows  of  the  waves,  and  I  have  felt  it  go  up  before  me 
as  the  ship  steadied  for  the  climb  of  their  dizzy  rise. 

Yet  such  premonitions  are  reputed  solely  of  the  body 
and  look  not  to  the  reason  for  their  confirmation.  It 
was  not  these  but  other  happenings  which  stayed  in  my 
mind  and  fixed  this  thought  of  peril  on  it  with  a  lasting 
sense  of  shock.  The  first  of  these  occurrings  is  that  the 
captain  himself  has  lost  heart  through  his  fear  and  has 
given  the  whole  ship  over  to  destruction. 

This  is  a  Thursday,  as  I  have  been  able  to  mark  the 
lagging  days.  It  should  be  yesterday,  therefore — 
which  was  Wednesday — and  near  to  noon,  that  he 
burst  into  the  cabin,  along  with  a  great  gust  of  wind  and 
vain,  and  stood  against  the  table  to  catch  his  breath, 
while  they  clapped  to  the  door  and  fastened  it  speedily 
behind  him.  The  cool  air  was  like  wine  in  that  barrel 
of  a  place,  but  it  was  not  so  cold  as  the  comfort  I 
gathered  from  his  face. 

If  ever  a  man  was  in  mortal  terror,  it  was  that  man 
as  he  stood.  His  mouth  was  blue  and  drawn  and  he 
shivered  steadily  in  his  wet  clothes.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  on  that  which  had  no  being  outside  of  his  mind, 
and  though  I  spoke  to  him,  he  answered  not,  and  I  had 
faith  to  believe  I  did  not  come  at  all  within  his  ken.  He 
stood  for  a  full  minute  balancing  himself  and  steadying 
his  nerves,  and  then,  with  the  same  unseeing  look  ahead, 
groped  his  way  blindly  along  the  table  until  he  gained 
his  private  room.  I  saw  the  door  close  and  heard  the 
key  click  behind  him,  and  since  then,  like  the  pope,  he 


The  Way  of  the  North  7 

has  made  no  conscious  sign.  But,  in  the  quieter 
moments  of  the  storm,  I  have  fancied  I  have  caught 
from  him  within  the  alternate  gurgle  of  his  bottle  and 
the  murmur  of  his  prayers. 

The  other  occurrence  which  has  given  colour  to  my 
squeamish  thought  is  that,  since  the  first  closing  of  the 
hatches,  there  has  been  no  attempt  by  any  one  to  furnish 
us  with  food.  Yet  I  had  not  suffered  with  hunger,  for 
there  are  still  on  the  table  the  remains  of  the  last  full 
meal  the  steward  placed  there,  and  while  I  have  eaten 
as  the  need  spoke  in  me,  my  appetite  has  been  at  no 
time  over  sharp.  But  there  must  have  been  large 
difficulty  in  entrance — which  is  danger  in  itself — or 
else,  as  is  more  probable,  the  profound  conviction  on 
the  part  of  the  cook  that  we  were  so  far  doomed  that  it 
made  no  difference  whether  we  went  to  death  hungry 
or  full,  that  we  have  been  left  so  long  and  continuously 
unserved. 

As  I  look  back  on  it,  I  do  not  think  that  I  have  been 
at  any  time  particularly  afraid.  In  truth,  I  cannot 
remember  that  through  it  all  I  have  had  much  time 
to  think.  The  writers  are  agreed  that  mortal  danger 
brings  up  unasked  to  a  man's  eye  the  sudden  picture 
of  his  past  deeds  and  life.  But  it  was  not  so  with  me. 
I  have  cursed  some  as  the  mood  struck  me,  and  have 
thought  of  places  where  I  would  better  like  to  be.  But 
when  I  was  not  asleep,  I  was  so  greatly  taken  up  with 
holding  to  my  place  and  guessing  in  what  direction  next 
this  floating  box  would  roll,  that  I  have  had  small  time 
for  mental  inquiry. 

To  this  one  weakness,  however — if  it  be  a  weakness 
—I  will  honestly  confess.  At  the  peril  of  my  bones,  I 
have  kept  the  light  burning  before  the  holy  pictures  on 


8  The  Way  of  the  North 

the  forward  partition  wall.  Not  that  I  felt  the  need 
of  cozening  God  and  drawing  from  Him  special  favour 
in  this  my  time  of  fear.  If  there  be  a  God,  my  conceit 
is  that,  as  with  men,  His  favour  goes  to  the  petitioner 
that  shows  the  stoutest  heart.  To  him  that  hath,  is 
given;  not  to  those  weaklings  whose  constant  and  only 
refuge  is  to  beg. 

So  it  was  rather  that,  lacking  human  sympathy,  I 
found  a  friendly  sense  of  companionship  in  the  per 
formance  of  the  service.  And  then,  too,  the  difficulty 
of  its  doing  piqued  my  stubborn  sense  of  pride.  The 
lamp  fat  is  thick  and  sluggish,  but  in  the  stress  of 
motion  the  full  cup  spilled  and  drowned  the  wick  so 
many  times  that  I  was  in  despair.  Once,  also,  I  slipped 
in  the  drip  of  oil  upon  the  floor  and,  catching  wildly, 
well-nigh  brought  the  whole  thing  down  about  my 
head.  But  finally  I  bethought  me  of  the  device  of 
leaving  the  lamp  unfilled,  the  plate  and  wick  resting 
on  but  a  thin  scum  of  grease  against  the  bottom.  This 
proved  a  proper  means  of  keeping  it  alight,  but  brought 
me  continuous  labour  in  the  introduction  of  new  oil 
beneath  the  plate  to  keep  it  fed. 

It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  with  the  sinking  of  the 
storm  I  should  promptly  turn  to  the  restoring  of  the 
feed  of  the  lamp  to  its  ordinary  and  wonted  supply. 
The  oil  jar  was  ready  to  my  hand,  though  I  saw  rue 
fully  enough  that  there  was  already  grease  enough  on 
my  clothes  and  feet  to  supply  a  reasonable  season  of  the 
burning.  I  was  so  taken  up  with  my  thoughts  and 
with  the  task  of  renovation  that  I  failed  to  see  that  the 
pope  came  out  of  his  room,  and  did  not  hear  him  till  he 
spoke  to  me. 

"While  the  priest  sleeps,  the  sinner  tends  the  altar," 


The  Way  of  the  North  9 

he  said  with  a  smile.  "It  was  a  fine  thing,  Fedor,  but 
I  did  not  expect  it  of  you.  Were  you,  then,  so  very 
much  afraid?"  It  vexed  me  for  a  moment  that  he 
should  gird  at  me,  and  I  answered  him  across  my 
shoulder  without  turning. 

"It  is  my  custom,"  I  said  somewhat  grimly,  "to  take 
no  chances  where  fortune  gives  me  the  power  to  load 
the  dice.  If  the  thing  is  true,  I  want  Him  with  me;  if 
it  is  not,  there  is  no  harm  done."  My  cynicism  sobered 
him,  and  he  made  an  involuntary  motion  of  deprecation 
with  his  hands. 

"It  is  true,"  he  said  impulsively,  "and  I  was  wrong 
in  speaking  as  I  did.  I  meant  simply  that  it  is  the  strong 
faith  that  prevails  with  Him,  and  not  the  mere  work  of 
the  hand."  I  turned  and  pointed  to  the  closed  door 
at  the  stern. 

"Faith  be  it,  then,"  I  answered,  "and  yonder  is  your 
company,  not  here."  His  eye  followed  the  gesture  and 
then  came  back  to  me  in  puzzled  questioning. 

"The  captain?"  he  queried  hesitatingly. 

"Ay,  the  captain.  Since  yester  noon  he  has  wholly 
eschewed  works,  and  in  retirement  there  has  given  him 
self  entirely  up  to  prayer."  He  still  stood  looking  from 
the  door  to  me  in  startled  inquiry. 

"But  the  direction  of  the  ship?"  he  stammered. 

"So  full  of  faith  is  he,"  I  answered  mockingly,  "that 
he  has  left  it  wholly  in  the  hand  of  God ! " 

"The  coward!"  he  burst  out  indignantly;  and  then 
I  laughed.  I  love  the  pope  and  would  not  wrongly 
cross  him,  but  it  is  not  often  I  have  the  chance  to  check 
mate  him  so  completely. 

"Joassaf,"  I  said  wickedly,  "with  which  of  us  two 
sinners  will  you  place  your  hope  of  salvation  from  this 


to  The  Way  of  the  North 

storm — with  the  captain  and  his  faith,  or  with  me  who 
has  served  God  wholly  with  his  hands  ?  "  I  might  have 
known  I  could  not  corner  him.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  smiled  as  one  would  set  aside  the  ques 
tion  of  a  child. 

"God  is  good,"  he  said  simply,  "and  perhaps  in 
spite  of  both  of  you  we  may  yet  see  quiet  days."  Then 
with  a  return  to  his  usual  manner:  "There  are  other 
things  now  that  draw  me  much  more  strongly  than 
theology.  Have  you  anything  here  to  eat  ?  "  His  eyes 
were  sharp  and  eager  and  roamed  with  hungry  interest 
over  the  confusion  of  the  dishevelled  board.  I  thought 
of  his  long  fast,  and  my  heart  softened  toward  him. 

"There  was  a  fish  pasty  that  was  not  so  bad,"  I 
said,  "  if  we  can  find  it.  Ah,  there  it  is  on  the  floor  by  the 
table.  And  when  I  find  a  cup  I  think  you  can  count  on 
getting  a  portion  of  cold  tea."  His  face  brightened 
at  the  prospect. 

"The  pasty  will  do  well,"  he  said,  lifting  it  to  the 
table  as  if  it  were  some  precious  thing.  "But  I  am  so 
old  a  man  that  cold  tea  sits  unkindly  on  my  stomach. 
Let  us  have  the  steward  bring  us  a  portion  that  is 
fresh." 

"Steward!"  I  exclaimed,  "I  have  not  seen  the 
steward  for  three  days.  And  as  for  going  out,  the 
hatches  are  still  battened."  The  priest  sighed  and  sat 
him  down  in  silent  discontent. 

"I  will  try  the  pasty,"  he  said  with  dignity,  as  if 
in  some  way  I  was  responsible  for  his  discomfort ;  "  and 
I  will  drink  the  tea,  though  I  know  it  will  make  a 
schism  in  my  stomach." 

But  he  forgot  his  annoyance  in  the  pleasure  of  the 
meal  and  ate  steadily  in  silence.  I  served  him  faith- 


The  Way  of  the  North  n 

fully,  and  as  he  sucked  his  sugar  lump  and  sipped  the 
bitter  tea  I  fell  to  wondering  what  could  have  so 
changed  his  life  and  sent  him  as  a  missionary  out  to  this 
savage  land.  I  had  known  him  as  the  pope  of  my  native 
village  when  I  was  a  boy.  It  was  he  who  held  me  up 
for  baptism,  and  I  had  received  my  first  communion 
at  his  hand.  He  had  been  loved  by  my  father  before 
me,  and  his  slender  figure  in  its  close -buttoned  surtout 
was  a  familiar  object  in  our  daily  life.  I  had  known 
him  always  as  a  man  upright  and  severe  in  conduct, 
who  seldom  drank  except  at  weddings,  was  not  given  to 
haggling  over  his  funerals,  and  who  was  singularly 
free  from  the  other  ordinary  vices  of  the  clergy.  He 
was  ever  a  kindly  man  and  loved  by  his  flock  as  if  they 
had  been  his  blood  relations  all.  Not  a  child  was  born 
but  he  was  first  after  its  mother  to  look  into  its  eyes; 
and  his  sorrowful  face  was  the  last  thing  that  most  of 
them  took  in  as  they  shut  those  eyes  for  the  last  time 
on  this  world.  He  had  seemed  so  much  a  part  of  the 
place  that  it  was  a  shock  at  first  to  find  him  on  the 
ship  and  know  him  wandering  so  wide  of  home.  Con 
sidering  these  things  in  my  mind,  the  impulse  came  to 
me  as  it  had  often  done  before  to  ask  him  of  the  change. 

"Joassaf  Petrovitch,"  I  said,  "why  have  you  left 
Kargopol  and  comfort  to  bury  your  bones  in  this  God 
forsaken  land?"  He  had  finished  with  his  meal  and, 
slid  down  in  his  chair  in  an  attitude  of  repose,  was  con 
tentedly  taking  snuff.  For  the  moment  he  did  not 
answer;  but  when  he  did  speak,  it  was  with  pensive 
impersonality,  as  if  he  had  forgotten  me  entirely  and 
was  talking  to  himself. 

"Why,  yes,"  he  said,  "I  suppose  that  is  so.  I  shall 
never  go  back  to  Russia.  I  had  not  thought  of  it  before." 


12  The  Way  of  the  North 

"But  why  did  you  come  at  all,"  I  persisted.  He 
wakened  from  his  reverie  and  straightened  himself  in 
his  chair.  Then  with  his  quiet  smile  he  answered  my 
question  with  another, 

"Fedor,"  he  said,  "why  did  you  leave  Okhotsk?" 
The  inquiry  was  unepxected  and  I  felt  the  blood  surge 
in  my  cheeks. 

"You  have  no  right  to  ask  me  that!"  I  said  indig 
nantly. 

"But  did  you  come  of  your  own  free  will?" 

"You  know  the  story,"  I  said  hotly.  "I  did  not 
mean  to  kill  the  man.  He  was  a  Chuckchi.  I  beat 
him  to  make  him  keep  his  place.  He  came  at  me 
with  a  knife,  and  it  was  his  life  or  mine." 

"But  the  governor  did  not  think  so,"  he  persisted, 
"and  so  you  came."  I  could  have  struck  him  where 
he  sat  for  very  bitterness  of  shame;  but  when  it  came 
to  the  fact  there  was  no  denying  it. 

"Yes,"  I  said  sullenly,  "if  you  will  have  it,  that  is 
the  truth."  This  time  his  smile  had  in  it  a  touch  of 
gentle  deprecation.  He  leaned  forward  and  laid  his 
hand  on  mine. 

"I  was  not  judging  you,  Fedor,"  he  said  with  sym 
pathetic  pressure.  "But  now  you  may  understand 
that  I,  too,  came  not  altogether  of  my  own  free  will." 
My  annoyance  passed  in  astonishment  at  his  answer. 

"I  do  not  believe  it,"  I  said  impetuously.  "You 
never  did  a  wicked  or  lawless  thing  in  all  your  life." 
He  was  pleased  with  the  compliment  and  my  enthu 
siasm,  and  his  hand  took  firmer  grip  of  mine. 

"But  the  pressure  was  there  just  the  same,"  he  con 
tinued  earnestly,  "though  it  differed  in  its  kind.  The 
call  came  to  me  to  go,  and  I  had  no  choice  but  to 


The  Way  of  the  North  13 

obey.  I  loathe  the  Indians,  I  loathe  the  hardships  of 
the  life,  I  have  left  behind  me  everything  that  I  love, 
but — God  willed  it,  and  I  came." 

My  heart  cried  out  at  the  injustice  of  the  matter,  for 
I  have  small  sympathy  with  such  delusions  as  that 
which  held  him  in  its  grip.  But  his  sincerity  checked 
the  bitter  word  that  waited  on  my  lips,  and  I  passed  at 
once  to  a  conclusion. 

"Well,"  I  said  impatiently,  "I  trust  if  you  ever  see 
Him  that  sent  you,  He  will  give  you  a  valid  reason  for 
the  sacrifice ! "  The  old  man  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood 
before  me.  His  face  was  lit  with  a  sort  of  ecstasy  of 
wistfulness,  and  he  was  so  swallowed  up  in  his  dream 
of  faith  that  for  the  moment  he  forgot  entirely  where 
he  was.  I  at  least  dropped  outside  of  his  consciousness, 
though  he  still  held  my  hand  clasped  tight  in  both  of 
his. 

"If  I  see  Him!"  he  repeated  softly.  "Fedor,  I  shall 
see  Him  and  I  shall  know!  If  I  did  not  believe  it  I 
would  not  care  to  live  a  day.  Not  a  day "  he  re 
peated  softly,  and  in  his  excitement  his  eyes  grew  large 
and  his  breath  came  in  irregular  little  sobs.  He  was 
a  picturesque  figure  as  he  stood  there  in  his  gray  gown 
and  dishevelled  hair,  with  the  conviction  of  his  con 
secration  so  firmly  on  him.  I  felt  a  dislike  for  break 
ing  in  upon  his  mood,  and  so  was  silent;  but  when  I 
could,  I  gently  drew  away  my  hand.  He  remained  for 
some  minutes  possessed  by  his  vision  and  talking  softly 
and  unintelligibly  to  himself.  The  interruption  of 
natural  circumstances  that  brought  him  back  came 
not  from  me,  but  from  the  outside  world. 

For,  while  we  stood,  there  came  to  us  the  rattle  and 
scrape  of  the  hatches  as  they  were  removed  and  the 


i4  The  Way  of  the  North 

welcome  sound  of  human  noise  above.  The  door 
opened  and  the  steward  came  hurriedly  down  the 
stairs.  It  was  on  the  point  of  my  tongue  to  berate  him 
soundly  for  his  long  defection,  and  truly  he  deserved 
the  strong  bestowal  of  my  wrath;  but  he  waited  not 
for  me  to  speak  up  and  begin. 

"The  captain!"  he  said  breathlessly  as  he  reached 
the  cabin  floor.  I  pointed  to  the  bolted  door.  He 
went  swiftly  across  to  it,  tapped  respectfully  and  called. 
There  was  no  answer  and  he  called  again.  Then,  as 
no  response  came  to  his  repeated  knockings,  he  began 
to  shout,  and  hammer  on  the  panels  with  both  hands. 
I  watched  him  from  under  my  eyebrows  with  a  grow 
ing  sense  of  amusement. 

"Tell  him  you  are  the  Angel  Gabriel,  man,"  I  called 
sardonically;  "that  he  is  dead,  and  that  you  have  come 
to  fetch  him.  That  is  what  he  is  waiting  for,  and  I 
doubt  if  anything  short  of  it  will  bring  him  out."  He 
ceased  his  efforts  and  came  back  to  where  we  stood. 

"It  is  very  bad,"  he  said  anxiously.  "They  are 
fighting  forward  and  it  may  be  murder  if  he  does  not 
come." 

"Who  are  fighting?"  I  asked. 

"It  is  the  settlers.  They  have  been  four  days 
fastened  down  below  decks  and  are  more  than  ugly. 
Gregor  Ivanovitch  Garin  has  been  hurt  and  I  fear 
is  like  to  die.  He  was  the  only  doctor,  and  there  is  no 
one  else  who  knows." 

"He  should  have  attendance,"  I  said  at  once.  "I 
have  some  knowledge  of  healing  and  have  practised 

it  at  need,  and  if  there  is  no  other  to  go "  The 

steward  turned  to  me  immediately. 

"It  can  do  no  harm/'  he  said  with  evident  relief. 


The  Way  of  the  North  15 

"The  man  will  die  anyway  if  he  gets  no  help."  I 
motioned  to  him  to  go,  and  he  led  the  way  up  outside 
to  the  air.  The  pope  had  not  spoken  in  the  interval, 
but  when  we  went  out  he  followed  close  behind.  I 
have  seen  pictures  of  the  last  great  resurrection  and 
noted  the  dead  men  rising  from  their  graves;  and  when 
we  reached  the  deck  of  the  ship  and  filled  our  lungs 
with  the  pure  air  of  heaven,  I  knew  exactly  what  was 
the  first  joy  of  those  dead  saints  as  they  came  up  to 
paradise. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  rain  had  stopped  and  so,  too,  the  wind.  The 
ship  lay  with  sails  flapping  in  a  sea  that  still  rolled 
heavily.  But  like  a  blanket  the  gray  fog  lay  over  every 
thing  and  so  changed  and  shrouded  the  familiar  things 
about  us  that  our  whole  world  kept  a  semblance  weird 
and  strange.  We  picked  our  way  cautiously  over  a 
tangle  of  ropes  and  other  sea  toggery  on  the  decks  and 
came  to  the  forward  hatch.  I  swung  myself  after  the 
steward  down  the  steep  companion  ladder  and  reached 
the  floor  of  the  hold  below.  As  I  landed,  the  pope's 
lean  legs  were  just  above  me,  coming  down. 

For  the  moment  the  eye  grasped  no  detail  in  the  dull 
and  smoky  light.  The  low  room  was  simply  one  great 
expanse  of  changing  shadow.  But  as  we  gathered 
power  of  concentration,  groups  of  figures  started  out 
of  the  darkness,  coming  unexpectedly  one  after  another 
like  the  trick  settings  in  the  scenes  of  a  fairy  play.  Like 
pieces  of  a  heathen  puzzle  they  changed  and  joined 
and  ran  together,  till  at  length  I  got  a  comprehensive 
picture  of  the  whole. 

There  were  eighty  of  the  poor  creatures — a  third, 
perhaps,  being  women  and  children — shut  in  that 
dreadful  place;  but  as  between  man  and  woman  there 
was  no  difference  that  I  could  see  in  the  quality  of  their 
trouble  and  distress.  I  know  not  by  what  dream  of 
betterment  Baranof  had  persuaded  them  to  come  on 
this  bitter  journey,  though  there  is  no  doubt  his  need 

16 


The  Way  of  the  North  17 

of  them  at  Sitka  was  great.  Yet,  as  I  saw  them 
stretched  in  absolute  abandon  on  the  filth  of  the  floor 
or  propped  in  stolid  listlessness  against  the  stalls  and 
stanchions,  I  felt  that  Baranof  himself  would  in  seeing 
them  have  felt  a  twinge  at  heart  that  through  him  they 
had  come  to  such  abject  and  utter  misery. 

Perhaps  the  thing  that  caught  my  attention  most 
strongly  was  the  unusual  silence  of  the  place.  From 
the  time  we  entered,  no  one  spoke  a  word.  Many  of 
the  men  sat  stolidly  and  did  not  even  follow  us  with 
their  eyes.  But  many  others  gazed  at  us  with  sullen 
looks  and  followed  us  with  their  glances  as  we  moved, 
as  if  in  fascination.  There  was  something  strange  in 
the  quality  of  their  regard,  and  I  was  increasingly  con 
scious  that  there  was  in  it  not  only  a  natural  surprise, 
but  also  something  of  startled  inquiry  and  suspicion. 
But  I  wasted  small  time  on  the  analysis  and  turned 
me  to  the  steward. 

"Where  is  your  sick  man?"  I  said  impatiently,  my 
voice  echoing  sharply  in  the  silence. 

"Yonder,  sir,"  he  answered,  pointing  toward  the  bow. 
We  made  our  way  in  that  direction,  avoiding  as  far  as 
possible  to  tread  on  the  poor  creatures  under  foot,  for 
they  took  no  heed  to  get  out  of  the  way  and  scarcely 
resented  even  that  we  stepped  upon  them. 

At  the  extreme  end  was  a  circle  of  men  standing. 
They  fell  away  at  our  approach,  and  beyond  them  on  the 
floor,  against  the  wall,  I  discovered  the  patient  we  had 
come  to  see.  He  lay  with  his  head  entirely  in  the  shadow 
of  the  corner,  and  his  body  limply  doubled  up  against 
the  wall.  The  relaxation  was  so  complete  that  I  thought 
him  already  dead.  Respect  or  fear  had  kept  the  crowd 
a  decent  distance  from  him  and  he  seemed  to  be  alone. 


i8  The  Way  of  the  North 

I  passed  quietly  across  the  intervening  space  and 
bent  beside  him,  feeling  for  his  heart.  But,  almost  as 
I  touched  him,  there  was  a  sudden  movement  in  the 
shadow  by  the  head,  a  flutter  as  of  garments  stirred, 
and  something  like  a  small  whirlwind  swept  out  be- 
between  me  and  the  sick  man,  throwing  aside  my 
hands  and  overturning  me  suddenly  on  the  floor. 

My  temper  is  not  saintly  at  the  best,  and  I  got  to  my 
feet  with  my  teeth  set  and  anger  in  my  heart.  I  could 
think  of  no  explanation  but  that  it  was  a  jest  these  people 
had  thus  put  upon  me;  and  I  turned  fiercely  to  the 
circle  of  onlookers  as  I  got  upon  my  legs  and  listened 
for  the  laugh  I  felt  would  surely  come. 

But  to  my  astonishment  there  was  no  answering 
cackle  of  appreciation  and  on  no  face  did  I  descry  the 
expected  grin  of  pleasure  or  approval.  Instead,  a 
curious  murmur,  more  like  the  inarticulate  snarl  of  a 
pack  of  beasts  than  anything  human,  ran  round  the 
circle  of  close-pressed  figures,  and  their  faces  showed 
fierce-eyed  and  serious  in  the  twilight  of  the  place. 
Evidently  there  was  no  humour  for  them  in  the  mishap 
that  had  befallen  me.  Yet  either  toward  me  or 
toward  something  else,  their  manner  was  surely  one  of 
bitter  disapproval,  and  that,  too,  a  dislike  that  had 
much  both  of  suspicion  and  menace  in  it.  It  was  so 
plain  that  my  overthrow  had  not  come  from  them 
that  I  turned  again  toward  the  sick  man  for  an  ex 
planation,  and,  so  doing,  came  face  to  face  writh  the 
cause  of  my  discomfiture. 

In  the  shadow  at  the  man's  head,  where  I  had  not 
noticed  her  before,  there  was  a  young  girl  crouching. 
It  was  too  dark  to  see  her  face,  but  from  her  attitude  I 
knew  she  was  waiting  for  me,  bent  for  another  spring. 


The  Way  of  the  North  19 

I  hesitated  as  I  came  forward  and  she  rose  to  meet  me, 
stepping  again  between  me  and  the  man.  She  was  a 
slender  creature,  hardly  yet  of  woman's  height.  Her 
dress  was  disordered  and  on  one  shoulder,  through  a 
long  rent,  the  white  skin  showed  plainly.  Her  hair 
hung  loosely  about  her  face,  and  I  could  see  her  body 
rise  and  fall  with  the  intensity  of  her  breathing. 

She  was  a  pathetic  little  figure  as  she  faced  me  in 
the  dimness.  She  was  evidently  very  much  afraid  and, 
as  she  watched  me,  her  eyes  had  the  brightness  and 
shifty  intensity  of  a  hunted  animal's.  One  hand  was 
held  behind  her,  and  with  the  other  in  self-conscious 
effort  at  concealment  she  again  and  again  lifted  up  the 
torn  flap  of  her  dress,  which  as  continually  slipped 
away.  If  I  had  stopped  to  think,  I  should  have  been 
more  kindly  in  my  speech,  but  I  was  still  shaken  by 
the  fall,  and  the  words  came  hotly. 

"Stand  aside,  you  fool!"  I  said  sharply.  "What  is 
the  matter?"  It  seemed  at  first  as  if  she  would  not 
answer,  for  she  faced  me  dumbly,  though  without 
moving,  and  with  her  hunted  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  my 
face.  But  it  was  excitement  rather  than  stubbornness 
that  bound  her  speech,  for  presently  her  mouth  began 
to  quiver  and  I  could  hear  the  frightened  intake  of  her 
breath.  Her  lips  moved  drily  as  she  tried  to  speak, 
and  when  the  words  came  they  were  so  low  they  scarcely 
carried  out  to  where  I  stood. 

"Can  you  not  wait  and  let  him  die  in  peace?"  she 
said  fiercely.  She  was  so  distraught  that  it  seemed  but 
wise  to  humour  her  delusion. 

"Of  a  certainty,"  I  said,  "he  is  not  at  peace  now. 
It  may  be  if  I  see  him  he  will  not  die  at  all."  She 
heard  me  though  she  did  not  appear  to  listen,  and  for 


20  The  Way  of  the  North 

the  moment  her  face  was  a  shade  less  tragic  in  its 
fear. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  said  more  audibly. 

"I  am  a  physician,"  I  answered,  "and  was  sent  for 
to  assist  this  man."  She  glanced  up  at  me  with  new 
suspicion,  and  her  face  went  back  to  its  old  expression 
of  despair. 

"Why  do  you  lie  to  me?"  she  said  brokenly.  "My 
father  was  the  only  doctor  on  the  ship."  My  temper 
rose  again,  and  for  the  moment  I  lost  my  head. 

"This  is  nonsense!"  I  said  impatiently,  and  took 
a  step  forward.  Then,  as  suddenly,  I  stopped.  For, 
while  for  a  moment  she  shrank  visibly  at  the  advance, 
as  instantly  she  recovered  herself  again  and  waited 
defiantly  for  me  to  come.  Her  hand  came  out  slowly 
from  behind  her  back,  and  as  she  raised  it  I  saw  she 
had  in  it  a  knife. 

"You  shall  not  kill  him!"  she  cried  hoarsely,  and 
her  voice  was  scarce  above  a  whisper.  "You  shall 
not ! "  There  was  a  silence  between  us  for  the  moment, 
and  through  it  I  heard  again  the  inarticulate  snarl  of 
baffled  purpose  from  the  ring  of  men  behind  me.  I 
cursed  myself  for  being  so  unreasonable. 

"Who  wants  to  hurt  him!"  I  burst  out  roughly. 
"We  are  not  enemies  but  friends."  The  girl's  manner 
softened  toward  me  again,  and  her  trembling  came  back 
and  she  shook  as  if  she  had  an  ague.  She  looked 
from  me  to  the  gaping  crowd  behind  me. 

"Ask  them! "she  said  with  a  bitter  laugh.  I  turned 
upon  them  sharply. 

"Who  of  you,"  I  demanded,  "has  been  harrying 
this  woman  to  her  fear?"  There  was  no  answer.  I 
had  addressed  no  particular  one,  and  they  simply 


The  Way  of  the  North  21 

gathered  more  closely  together  and  spoke  in  sullen 
whispers  among  themselves.  I  looked  them  over  with 
minuter  care.  The  most  of  them  had  come  direct  from 
Russia,  and  with  them  a  stranger's  word  would  make 
but  small  appeal.  But  at  the  left  I  saw  a  man  whom 
I  had  seen  before.  He  was  a  joiner  of  wood  and  at 
Okhotsk  had  been  much  concerned  about  the  shipping. 

"Dmetri  Leroken,"  I  said  imperiously,  at  the  same 
time  beckoning  to  him  with  my  hand,  "stand  out, 
man,  and  tell  me  what  has  happened  to  these  people 
and  why  you  hold  them  here?"  The  man  did  not 
relish  the  distinction  thus  thrust  upon  him  and  would 
have  shrunk  back  farther  out  of  sight.  His  comrades, 
however,  were  wholly  glad  to  yield  to  him  the  privilege 
and  encouraged  him,  all  unwilling,  and  pushed  him  out. 
He  was  a  sturdy  rascal,  with  no  garment  but  a  gray 
svitka  that  was  already  full  of  holes.  He  stood  there, 
first  looking  down  at  the  floor  and  then  shiftily  up  at 
me,  and  did  not  say  a  word. 

"Out  with  it!"  I  cried  impatiently.  "What  has  this 
man  done?" 

"He  is  a  heretic,"  he  said  at  last  sullenly,  "a  Roman 
ist,  and  an  enemy  of  God's  Church."  Before  I  could 
speak,  like  an  antiphonal  chorus  in  a  play  I  heard  the 
girl's  clear  voice  behind  me. 

"It  is  not  true!"  she  said  indignantly.  "He  was  a 
good  man  and  has  the  true  cross  hanging  now  about  his 
neck."  The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  may  be  so,"  he  said  simply,  "but  he  was  different. 
And  then,"  he  added,  as  if  the  fact  of  the  blemish  were 
a  damning  proof,  "there  is  a  black  mole  on  his  left 
cheek." 

I  have  small  patience  with  doings  that  draw  their 


22  The  Way  of  the  North 

vital  sanction  out  of  superstition.  There  is  enough 
of  real  trouble  that  binds  us  in  this  life  without  increas 
ing  it  by  the  needless  fear  of  what  we  do  not  under 
stand. 

"You  fool,"  I  said  coldly,  "and  what  business  is  it 
of  yours  if  he  is  every  thing  you  say  ?  Did  you  expect 
to  make  a  better  man  of  him  because  you  broke  his 
head?"  The  circle  behind  Leroken  was  growing  un 
easy,  and  he  himself  stood  picking  nervously  at  the  holes 
of  his  svitka  and  shifting  his  wreight  upon  his  feet. 

"He  fell  and  hurt  himself,"  he  said  slowly.  His  head 
was  sunk  down  sheepishly  on  his  breast  and  he  did  not 
raise  his  eyes.  Again,  as  an  echo  to  his  accusation, 
I  heard  behind  me  the  girl's  indignant  voice. 

"They  would  have  thrown  him  overboard!"  she 
cried.  "He  fell — yes,  but  it  was  because  he  was  struck 
and  thrown!"  Her  words  stirred  up  again  to  life  all 
the  prejudice  and  superstitious  fear  that  Leroken  had 
been  struggling  against  and  keeping  down.  He 
straightened  himself  to  his  full  height  and  threw  out 
his  hands  impetuously  before  him. 

"Then  why  did  he  make  the  storm?"  he  demanded 
savagely.  "Shall  we  all  drown  because  there  is  a  here 
tic  aboard  ?  It  was  his  life  or  ours! "  A  growing  mur 
mur  of  assent  went  round  the  excited  group.  They 
stirred  restlessly  in  their  places  and  I  could  see  that  the 
time  for  parley  had  slipped  quite  away.  Their  leaders 
while  we  spoke  had  been  passing  from  one  to  the  other 
behind  the  line,  and  it  was  plain  they  had  determined 
what  to  do.  Two  men  came  out  upon  the  right  and 
two  upon  the  left  and  moved  silently  forward  to  the 
wall.  Four  more  stepped  out  from  the  centre  bight 
and  arranged  themselves  in  front  of  me,  side  by  side. 


The  Way  of  the  North  23 

They  were  brawny  fellows  all,  and  it  was  no  pleasant 
sight  to  see  them  as  they  stood  there  ready  for  the 
rush. 

At  the  first  move,  I  had  fallen  back  till  my  feet  were 
against  the  old  man's  body.  There  could  be  but  one 
outcome  to  the  fight,  I  knew,  but  my  blood  was  up  and 
I  should  have  hated  myself  for  any  thing  that  would  have 
been  desertion  of  his  cause.  As  we  stood  there  waiting, 
there  was  a  twitch  at  my  elbow  and  I  felt  rather  than 
saw,  for  I  did  not  dare  to  take  my  eyes  from  the  mur 
derous  crew  before  me,  that  the  girl  put  something  into 
my  hand. 

"It  is  the  knife,"  she  whispered  pantingly,  but  when 
I  dared  to  look,  she  was  back  in  the  corner  by  the  head. 
I  felt  a  thrill  of  exultation  at  the  contact,  both  at  her 
trust  in  giving  me  the  weapon  and  that,  now,  in  the 
fray,  I  could  be  more  sure  of  rendering  good  account. 

"Stand  back!"  I  said  as  I  raised  the  weapon  where 
it  could  be  seen.  "  He  who  comes  will  have  to  take  the 
measure  both  of  me  and  this;  and,  mark  you,  if  one  of 
us  is  killed,  there  will  be  hanging  when  Baranof  gets  his 
fingers  on  you  in  America!" 

The  bravado  held  them  for  a  moment  and  that  mo 
ment  was  our  salvation.  For  while  we  stood,  and 
before  the  signal  came,  there  was  a  stir  at  the  centre 
of  the  group,  the  rioters  stood  aside  and  through  the 
opening  came  Joassaf  Petrovich  in  the  full  dignity 
of  his  clerical  robes.  In  his  right  hand  was  the 
brush,  and  in  his  left  was  balanced  a  steadily  slopping 
bowl  of  holy  water.  I  had  missed  him  early  in 
the  fray,  and  now  surmised  that  at  the  first  hint  of 
heresy  he  had  taken  fire  and  had  gone  to  array  him 
self  in  his  proper  ecclesiastical  armour.  He  paused 


24  The  Way  of  the  North 

between  us  and  the  crowd  and,  turning,  lifted  up 
his  hand. 

"Children,"  he  said,  in  his  soft,  even  voice,  "can 
you  not  trust  God,  that,  unadvised,  you  take  it  on  your 
selves  to  act  thus  harshly  in  His  name  ?  Even  if  this 
man  were  God's  enemy,  how  would  it  please  Him,  or 
make  Him  turn  to  you,  that  you  add  his  murder  to  your 
sins?  It  was  the  devil  and  not  God  that  put  it  in 
your  hearts.  Do  you  want  the  proof?"  he  asked,  his 
voice  rising  till  it  filled  the  whole  room  like  a  bell.  "  Go 
and  look  for  it  outside.  The  storm  is  over.  Do  you 
hear?  If  this  man's  malice  brought  the  evil  down, 
God  has  punished  him  and  we  are  still  safely  in  His 
care.  Why  do  you  stay  in  this  place  when  outside 
there  is  life  and  hope  and  air?  As  for  the  devils  that 
remain,  leave  them,  as  many  of  you  have  done  before, 
to  me." 

He  ceased  speaking  and,  turning,  began  walking  up 
and  down  across  the  room,  sprinkling  holy  water 
from  his  brush  and  chanting  the  service  for  the  casting 
out  of  evil  spirits,  as  I  had  seen  him  do  many  times 
before  at  home.  The  men  gave  way  before  him  and 
he  pushed  them  quietly  back.  But  they  waited  rever 
ently  with  outstretched  finger-tips  to  take  the  drop  from 
his  proffered  brush,  and  each  time  one  did  so  he 
stopped  his  service  with  magnificent  forgetfulness  of 
the  murder  in  their  hearts,  and  blessed  them  one  and 
all. 

Thus  left  to  myself  I  turned  in  belated  succour  to  the 
injured  man,  and  this  time  no  one  said  me  nay.  The 
girl  had  sunk  on  her  knees  in  the  corner  and  sat  watch 
ing  me  with  a  stony  face.  The  stress  of  conflict  she 
had  undergone  had  sapped  completely  the  resources  of 


The  Way  of  the  North  25 

her  strength.  She  leaned  in  utter  weariness  against  the 
wall  and  gave  herself  up  wholly  to  her  grief.  Her  hands 
lay  limply  in  her  lap,  and  even  the  torn  flap  of  her  dress 
hung  shamelessly  down  without  her  notice. 

I  turned  the  man  on  his  back  and  straightened  out 
his  limbs.  There  were  bruises  on  his  body  and  the 
fingers  of  one  hand  were  broken.  He  was  still  alive, 
but  had  been  long  unconscious.  There  was  an  ugly 
wound  at  the  back  of  his  head,  and  around  it  I  could 
feel  that  the  bone  was  bent  and  crushed.  The  girl 
followed  me  through  every  thing  with  her  appealing  eyes. 
When  I  had  done,  she  turned  them  fixedly  on  my  face 
in  wistful  inquiry.  I  understood  what  she  wanted 
and  did  not  wait  for  her  to  speak. 

"It  is  too  late,"  I  said  gently.  "It  is  only  a  question 
of  time  when  he  will  die."  For  a  moment  she  did  not 
move,  except  that  her  eyes  went  away  from  me — and 
everything — and  she  sat  gazing  unseeingly  at  the 
wall.  Then  the  tears  began  to  run  quietly  down  her 
cheeks,  and  as  the  relief  of  them  worked  their  spell  in 
her,  she  let  herself  slip  down  to  the  floor  and  lay  in  a 
pitiful  heap  with  her  arms  about  her  father's  shoulders 
and  her  face  hid  in  his  neck. 

The  pope  had  finished  with  his  devil-driving  and 
came  back  to  where  I  stood.  He  held  out  his  brush  to 
me  in  invitation,  but  my  thought  was  not  yet  keyed  to 
heavenly  things  and  my  hand  stayed  unresponsive 
at  my  side.  He  was  not  to  be  put  off,  however,  and 
coming  closer  touched  me  gently  with  the  brush  above 
the  eyes. 

"It  will  not  hurt  you,  Fedor,"  he  said  with  more 
emotion  than  I  was  wont  to  see  him  show,  "and  I  am 
not  sure  but  this  day  God  has  made  it  the  means  of 


26  The  Way  of  the  North 

saving  your  life."  He  turned  from  me  to  the  prostrate 
girl,  and,  bending,  placed  his  hand  upon  her  head. 

"Poor  child!"  he  said,  and  then  again,  "poor 
child!"  Then  straightening  himself,  he  spoke  to  me.: 

"Can  you  carry  him  alone,  Fedor?  It  will  not  do 
to  leave  him  here."  I  beckoned  to  the  steward  who 
still  stood  near  at  hand,  and  we  lifted  the  wounded  man 
from  the  floor.  The  way  was  clear  and  no  man  forbade 
us,  and  in  this  way  we  went  up  and  out  of  the  un 
wholesome  and  dreary  place:  the  steward  first,  who 
held  the  sick  man's  feet;  and  I  behind  him  closely, 
holding  up  his  head;  then  the  girl,  still  weeping,  but 
failing  not  to  keep  jealously  near  at  hand;  and  lastly 
the  pope,  sailing  from  side  to  side  till  his  skirts  trailed 
out  like  a  strutting  bird,  sprinkling  the  holy  water  and 
keeping  up  to  the  last  the  cheerful  patter  of  his  prayers. 


CHAPTER  III 

GREGOR  IVANOVITCH  GARIN  died  this  morning  at 
the  hour  we  should  have  seen  the  sun.  It  is  so  bleak 
and  chill,  and  the  fog  hangs  so  starkly  over  everything, 
that  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  if  I  myself  were  a  ghost 
about  to  pass,  I  should  strive  to  hold  to  my  warm  body 
and  not  die,  rather  than  venture  out  uncased  in  such  an 
air.  And  truly  the  man  did  not  seem  to  want  to  go. 

We  brought  him  to  the  after  cabin  and  laid  him  on  a 
long  cushion  on  the  floor.  The  steward,  at  my  order,, 
furnished  a  basin  and  stood  to  help  me  while  I  cleansed 
the  wound.  But  the  girl  was  disturbed  in  mind  and 
jealous  of  his  service.  She  went  from  point  to  point 
about  us  like  an  uneasy  ghost,  straightening  the  man's 
dress  and  easing  the  posture  of  his  limbs,  and  ended  by 
pushing  in  between  the  steward  and  his  task  and 
taking  the  cloth  and  basin  to  herself. 

She  had  ceased  her  crying  and  was  decently  composed, 
so  I  made  no  strong  demur.  I  kept  my  mind,  however, 
severely  on  her  demeanour,  for  it  disturbs  me  to  have 
women  about  me  who  always  weep.  But  this  one, 
either  through  natural  fortitude  of  will  or  courage 
born  of  her  affection,  gave  her  whole  mind  steadily 
to  her  task  and  bent  herself  deftly  and  intelligently  to 
my  direction.  Yet  I  saw  her  face  whiten  at  the  touch 
of  blood,  and  when  I  would  have  thrown  away  the  long 
hair  clipped  from  about  the  wound,  she  made  bold  to 
check  me  and,  taking  the  disordered  locks,  cleansed 

27 


28  The  Way  of  the  North 

them  carefully,  dried  them,  and  hid  them  in  the  bosom 
of  her  dress. 

When  we  had  finished  this,  there  was  naught  else  to  do 
but  lay  the  man  back  and  wait  patiently  till  he  should 
choose  to  go.  It  is  an  irony  that  when  the  soul  has 
said  dimiltis  and  would  resolve  the  fight,  the  body 
should  go  on  like  a  run-away  machine  without  the 
power  to  end  its  wasted  use.  Yet  after  all,  perhaps  it 
is  not  more  strange  than  that  we  should  here  be  con 
tent  to  drift  in  this  fog,  as  we  do,  without  aught  save 
the  discretion  of  the  elements  and  waves. 

It  was  a  brave  fight  the  man  made  for  his  life — a 
night  and  a  day  and  another  night,  almost,  we  watched 
and  waited  before  he  consented  and  was  gone.  I 
myself  did  not  see  him  pass.  The  pope,  the  girl,  and 
I  divided  the  watches  as  seemed  fit  among  us,  though 
the  girl  would  never  have  left  the  sick  man  for  a  moment 
if  we  had  given  her  her  way.  It  was  a  strange  thing 
that  we  three  should  thus  labour  to  a  common  end  and 
yet  each  be  stirred  thereto  by  such  a  different  spur  to 
action.  Pity  aside,  to  me  the  man  was  but  a  surgeon's 
case,  no  more,  no  less,  and  I  ministered  to  him  with 
my  skill  because  by  all  the  rules  he  was  entitled  to 
fair  play  in  his  fight  with  death. 

The  pope,  true  to  his  cloth,  was  most  concerned 
that  he  be  made  conscious  and  so  be  cleanly  shrived 
before  he  passed  away.  The  word  "heretic"  heard  in 
the  steerage  lingered  like  a  maggot  in  his  brain,  and 
had  he  forgot  the  need  of  kindliness  and  sympathy 
with  the  man  as  one  oppressed,  he  would  still,  I  think, 
for  the  honour  of  the  church,  have  yearned  to  confess 
him  and  seal  the  sinner's  right  to  salvation  by  drawing 
from  his  own  lips  that  he  was  yet  in  harmony  with 


The  Way  of  the  North  29 

God.  He  took  his  allotment  of  labour  cheerfully 
and  puttered  about  like  a  friendly  hen,  striving  in  little 
ways  to  add  to  our  comforts  and  attending  on  the  three 
of  us  alike.  But  his  thrifty  clerical  eye  was  always  out 
— it  was  his  business,  I  suppose — for  the  moment  which 
should  be  the  saving  of  a  soul.  And  even  in  the  night 
when  his  watch  was  off,  and  he  should  have  been  asleep, 
I  saw  him  more  than  once  steal  eagerly  out  at  some  un 
usual  sound,  tiptoe  apologetically  over  to  the  patient, 
and  bend  above  him  with  wistful  eagerness  while  he 
listened  for  the  sign  of  intelligence  that  would  make 
for  him  his  opportunity. 

The  girl  of  course  made  duty  of  her  love.  She  had 
small  heart  for  anything  in  life  and  sat  for  hours,  dry- 
eyed  and  silent,  and  watched  her  father's  face.  Some 
times  when  he  stirred,  she  touched  him  with  her  hand 
and  spoke  to  him  softly  as  if  he  understood.  Yet 
hers  was  not  a  despairing  grief.  I  could  see  that, 
with  the  splendid  courage  of  youth,  because  she  hoped 
the  thing  might  be,  her  heart  believed  that  there  was 
a  chance  he  would  not  die.  She  talked  little  and  we 
respected  her  silence  and  left  her  to  herself.  They 
brought  a  pallet  for  my  use  and  spread  it  near  at  hand, 
and  so  freed  for  her  my  room  to  which,  for  sleep  or  dress, 
she  might  retire  in  maidenly  seclusion.  But  never  did 
she  go  to  it  except  with  protest,  and  each  time  was  back 
before  the  space  agreed. 

The  first  night  of  vigil  she  sat  at  her  father's  head, 
hour  after  hour,  as  white  and  still  as  if  she  were  no 
woman,  but  a  marble  mourner  set  upon  his  tomb. 
It  was  outside  of  nature  that  she  should  be  so  still,  and 
I  found  an  interest  in  watching  her  that  was  close  to 
fascination  In  the  half  darkness,  with  nothing  to 


30  The  Way  of  the  North 

busy  my  attention  but  my  thoughts,  I  found  myself  fairly 
counting  between  her  stirrings  as  if  it  had  been  a  game. 

"Why,"  I  asked  finally,  "do  you  tire  yourself  when 
there  is  no  need  ?  There  is  nothing  to  do  but  watch, 
and  in  that  duty  we  men  here  will  not  fail.  Go  to  your 
room  and  rest."  She  was  startled  from  her  reverie  by 
the  sound  of  my  voice  coming  so  unexpectedly  out  of 
the  silence  and  looked  at  me  with  wide-opened  eyes. 
Then,  as  the  meaning  of  what  I  had  said  worked 
itself  into  her  mind,  the  light  died  out  again  and  she 
sank  back  apathetically. 

"I  am  not  tired,"  she  said  dully,  and  relapsed  into 
the  old  silence. 

"It  is  not  nature  then,"  I  insisted,  "for  what  has 
come  to  you  to-day  would  not  in  any  other  make  for 
rest."  She  shivered  nervously  at  the  recollection  and 
shook  her  head. 

"I  cannot,"  she  said,  and  her  lips  quivered  help 
lessly.  "If  he  should  waken,  he  would  need  me; 
and  if  he  should  die — "  she  stopped  and  her  voice 
went  almost  to  a  whisper,  but  she  gathered  herself 
again  and  finished  bravely — "if  he  should  die,  I  would 
not  be  away." 

"He  will  not  waken,"  I  said  quietly,  but  with  de 
cision,  "and  from  my  knowledge  I  do  not  think  he  will 
die  to-night."  She  caught  hungrily  at  the  crumb  of 
encouragement  in  the  words. 

"You  think  he  will  live?"  she  demanded,  almost 
fiercely. 

"God  knows!"  I  answered.  "But  he  will  not  die 
to-night."  She  watched  me  narrowly  for  some  minutes 
as  if  I  held  the  secret  of  the  man's  recovery  in  my  soul 
and  she  would  surprise  it  from  me,  and  in  the  interval 


The  Way  of  the  North  31 

she  made  up  her  mind.  What  I  had  said  gave  her 
courage,  and  her  animation  returned. 

"I  will  trust  you,"  she  said  gravely,  "and  I  will  go. 
But — you  will  call  me  if  there  is  need  ? "  I  bowed  in 
acquiescence  and  stood  for  her  to  pass;  and,  rising,  she 
went  by  me  to  the  room.  But  as  she  reached  the 
door  she  stopped  uncertainly  and  then  came  back  and 
stood  before  me. 

"You  have  been  good  to  me,"  she  said  with  feeling, 
"and  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  grateful."  Her 
hands  were  clasped  in  front  of  her  and  she  bowed  to 
me  with  sober  sweetness  as  she  spoke.  It  struck  me 
suddenly  that  she  was  not  the  child  I  had  thought  her, 
but  almost  a  woman  grown.  The  discovery  embar 
rassed  me  somewhat,  and  for  the  moment  I  did  not 
know  what  to  say.  And  she  gave  me  no  time  for 
reflection,  for,  her  courtesy  ended,  she  turned  and  went 
swiftly  back.  The  door  closed  behind  her  and  I  saw 
her  no  more  that  night. 

The  following  day,  despite  the  gloomy  weather,  I 
spent  the  morning  walking  above  decks.  An  hour  of 
the  time  I  talked  with  the  captain,  who  has  recovered 
from  hie  "indisposition,"  as  he  is  pleased  to  call  it,  and 
has  again  resumed  command.  The  sea  is  down  and 
the  fog  yet  holds,  but  there  is  a  strange  smell  in  the  air 
which  the  sailors  tell  me  betokens  that  we  are  near  to 
land.  It  has  stirred  a  yearning  in  me  stronger  than  I 
supposed  was  in  my  heart  to  feel.  So  long  as  landing 
was  impossible,  I  never  gave  it  thought;  but  now  that 
the  wind  brings  the  earth-savour  back  to  me,  I  am  alive 
from  head  to  foot  with  impatience  to  tread  again  the 
shore,  and  in  deadly  fear  when  I  remember  the  terrors 
of  the  sea.  It  would  be  an  uncivil  thing  indeed  of  fate 


32  The  Way  of  the  North 

to  drown  us  now,  after  bringing  us  so  near  to  our  desire. 

The  captain  questioned  me  concerning  the  happen 
ings  in  the  hold,  and  why  the  man  was  there  on  the 
cabin  floor  to  die.  I  told  him  all  I  knew  about  the  mat 
ter,  and  at  the  mention  of  heresy  he  piously  crossed  him 
self  and  spat  three  times  toward  the  east.  I  ques 
tioned  him,  in  turn,  who  the  girl  and  her  father  were; 
but  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  threw  up  his  hands 
like  a  Jew. 

"How  should  I  know  without  looking?"  he  said. 
"The  herd  came  to  me  invoiced  by  number,  like  a  load 
of  sheep.  Who  could  distinguish  among  them  a  par 
ticular  yearling  or  a  ram  ?  " 

"It  does  not  so  greatly  matter,"  I  returned,  "for  the 
man  will  surely  die." 

"I  should  like  to  have  kept  him  till  we  get  to  Sitka," 
he  went  on  thoughtfully,  "for  Baranof  will  hold  me 
strictly  to  the  full  number  of  the  list.  But  if  he  has  to 
go,  encourage  him  to  go  without  delay.  It  leans  not 
to  good  appetite  to  have  a  man  dying  by  the  table  while 
we  sit  to  eat." 

It  was  the  pope's  watch  when  we  went  below,  and  I 
did  not  see  the  girl  again  till  well-nigh  night.  Then  I 
found  that  she  had  gathered  her  hair  smoothly  and 
restored  to  neatness  the  disorder  of  her  dress.  Quiet 
and  rest  had  wrought  their  spell  with  her  condition, 
and  her  manner,  though  subdued,  had  lost  the  tragic 
quality  I  had  found  in  it  before.  She  greeted  me  with 
out  restraint,  though  there  was  nothing  of  the  impulsive 
warmth  in  her  expression  which  had  surprised  me  the 
night  before. 

"You  were  right,"  she  said  quietly,  "he  is  the  same 
to-day  as  he  was  last  night."  There  was  so  much  of 


The  Way  of  the  North  33 

surer  confidence  in  her  tone  that  my  heart  ached  for 
her  that  I  could  not  enlarge  my  prophecy  and  give  her 
promise  of  his  life. 

"He  was  of  strong  blood,"  I  answered  evasively. 
"Another  would  have  died  outright  of  such  a  wound." 
She  tooked  at  him  proudly  and  her  hand  went  caressingly 
across  his  forehead  and  hair. 

"He  was  always  a  good  man,"  she  said,  "and  we 
lived  a  quiet  life." 

"  But  why  did  he  bring  you  on  such  a  journey  and  in 
so  unfit  a  way?  You  are  not  official;  but  surely  you 
are  not  of  the  same  class  as  those  cattle  forward  in  the 
hold."  Her  eyes  sparkled  and  her  face  fixed  in  an  ex 
pression  of  great  disgust. 

"It  was  that  which  troubled  them!"  she  burst  out. 
"They  were  like  pigs — -beasts!  I  could  not  be  like 
them — oh,  I  could  not!" 

"But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  were  there  at  all ?" 

"He  was  not  to  blame,"  she  answered.  "It  was  my 
whim  to  come,  and  he  let  me  have  my  way.  Thirty 
years  ago,  when  both  were  young,  my  father  and 
Alexander  Baranof  were  friends,  and  there  was  need 
of  a  physician  for  this  place.  We  would  save  money  and 
so  took  the  government  passage  like  the  rest.  We  had 
no  thought,"  she  added  with  a  shudder,  "that  it  would 
be  so  bad!" 

"You?"  I  said  in  surprise,  "it  was  you  who  wished 
logo?" 

"Yes,"  she  repeated  earnestly,  "my  father  would 
have  stayed  at  Kargopol.  It  was  I  who  wished  to 
come."  I  took  measure  of  her  slender  stature  and  the 
delicate  lines  of  her  face  and  neck.  Then  I  thought 
of  the  hardship  and  the  work  there  was  to  do  in  the 


34  The  Way  of  the  North 

American  wilderness ;  and  of  the  broad-hipped  peasant 
women,  strong  as  oxen  and  scarcely  more  intelligent, 
whom  the  government  was  rightly  choosing  to  send  out 
to  be  the  future  mothers  of  this  new  Russia  in  foreign 
lands. 

"In  a  new  country  there  is  room  for  all,  I  suppose," 
I  said  with  a  smile;  "but  so  far  all  the  women  the  gov 
ernment  has  sent  have  been  of  one  profession — that  of 
wife."  She  blushed  consciously,  but  without  embar 
rassment. 

"Then  I  shall  be  no  exception,"  she  said  demurely, 
"and  I  trust  I  shall  bring  no  discredit  on  the  name." 

"But  you  are  not  married!"  I  said  in  amazement. 

"No,  not  yet.  Not  till  we  come  to  land.  I  am 
betrothed  to  the  lieutenant  Alexei  Yegorovitch  Sookin. 
He  is  a  soldier  and  an  officer  over  the  soldiers  of  the 
Company  at  Sitka.  He  could  not  come  to  me  and  so  I 
am  going  out  to  him."  The  information  pleased  me. 
It  had  weighed  on  my  mind  what  should  be  done  to  help 
her  when  her  natural  protector  was  finally  and  fully 
dead,  and  it  was  good  to  find  that  in  losing  him  her  plans 
had  not  wholly  gone  to  wreck. 

"I  am  glad  for  you,"  I  said  simply.  "I  only  wish 
that  there  was  some  one  in  that  wide  land  who  looked 
and  watched  for  me."  The  girl's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  It  must  be  sorrowful  indeed  to  be  alone,"  she  said. 
"For  myself,  were  it  not  for  Alexei,  without  my  father, 
I  do  not  think  that  I  could  live."  I  said  nothing,  and 
for  a  space  we  sat  in  silence,  without  looking  up.  Then 
she  spoke  again. 

"Perhaps  it  may  not  be  so  bad  as  you  think,"  she  said 
softly.  "Surely  the  friends  that  you  take  with  you  will 
not  count  utterly  as  naught.  I  owe  to  you  rescue,  if  not 


The  Way  of  the  North  35 

my  life,  and  in  my  house  at  least  there  will  always  be 
a  welcome  for  you.  I  shall  not  forget;  and  my  hus 
band" — she  hesitated  over  the  new  word  and  blushed 
in  saying  it — "my  husband,  I  know,  will  wish  to  thank 
you,  too."  She  offered  me  her  hand  and  I  took  it  with 
out  a  word.  It  was  frankly  given,  and  I  felt  a  thrill  of 
pleasure  in  her  impulsive  clasp.  I  have  never  cared  for 
women  and  am  awkward  in  their  service;  but  I  have 
never  denied  that  God  made  them  to  add  to  the  com 
fort  of  this  life.  My  blood  stirred  foolishly  that  she 
should  thus  make  a  comrade  of  me  for  all  time.  But  I 
had  no  words  to  tell  her  so,  and  beyond  a  mumble  of 
thanks  she  got  no  speech  by  which  to  measure  my 
appreciation. 

Later,  she  prepared  her  father  for  the  night,  easing 
his  pillows  and  smoothing  his  covers  as  if  he  had  been 
a  child.  The  pope  had,  an  hour  before,  finished  his 
prayers  before  the  ikon,  and  gone  quietly  to  his  room. 
Then,  when  all  was  ready,  she  turned  to  me  and  spoke. 

"I  shall  sleep  better  to-night,"  she  said  bravely, 
"because  I  leave  him  in  good  hands.  I  trust  you  to 
call  me  if  there  is  need." 

"I  will  surely  call  you,"  I  said  with  positiveness  and 
made  certain  in  my  conceit  that  this  was  true.  There 
was  undoubtedly  no  thought  in  my  heart  of  breaking 
faith  with  her  as  I  loosened  my  clothing  and  drew  up 
the  pallet  as  I  had  done  the  night  before. 

But  Gregor  Ivanovitch  Garin  was  beyond  watcher's 
help,  and  I  was  worn  out  by  what  had  gone  before.  I 
do  not  know  when  I  dozed,  nor  how  long  I  lapsed  in 
sleep;  but  it  must  have  been  some  hours,  for  when  I 
wakened  it  was  dawn  and  the  girl  was  back  and  lay  in  a 
disconsolate  heap  on  the  floor  at  her  father's  head. 


36  The  Way  of  the  North 

She  must  have  come  with  great  quietness  that  I  did  not 
hear.  I  raised  myself  to  where  I  could  see  the  sick 
man's  face.  One  look  told  me  the  truth,  and  I  went 
quickly  to  him  and  felt  for  the  beating  of  his  heart.  It 
was  still  to  my  hand  and  his  eyes  were  turned  up  under 
their  lids.  The  girl  raised  her  head  and  watched  me 
dully.  How  she  had  known  the  end  was  near  and  had 
come,  I  cannot  tell.  To  me  who  watched  there  was  no 
sign,  but  in  some  hidden  way  the  call  had  gone  to  her. 

"He  is  dead,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  monotonous 
and  without  expression.  In  my  shame  at  my  untrust- 
worthiness  I  found  no  word  to  say.  She  saw  my 
abashed  face  and  went  on  impassively. 

"I  do  not  blame  you,"  she  said,  "he  was  not  anything 
to  you."  It  hurt  me,  though,  that  where  she  had  put 
faith  in  my  steadfastness  I  should  have  gone  so  lamely; 
and  after  trying  vainly  for  some  moments  to  choose  the 
words  that  I  should  speak  to  her,  I  gave  the  matter  up 
and  went  hurriedly  away.  But  so  it  came  about  that 
of  the  sorts  of  interest  that  separately  spurred  on  the 
three  of  us  to  care  for  the  man,  religion  slept,  curiosity 
fell  careless  by  the  wayside,  and  only  love  remembered 
and  was  faithful  to  the  end. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ANNA  MARYA  GREGOROVNA — for  that  is  the  name 
of  the  girl  as  it  shows  on  the  manifest  of  the  ship — ate 
no  breakfast  on  the  morning  after  her  father's  death. 
For  that  matter,  neither  the  captain,  the  pope,  nor  I  sat 
long  at  table  for  the  meal.  We  came  as  usual  at  the 
steward's  call,  but  there  was  that  in  the  presence  of  the 
dead  man  on  the  floor  and  of  the  girl  beside  him  which 
proved  a  bar  to  appetite.  The  pope  was  serene  enough, 
lie  had  come  to  an  age  when  food  is  no  more  than  a 
fuel  for  life's  fires,  and  so  ate  sparingly  and  was  quickly 
done.  For,  having  learned  the  lesson  of  ripe  years 
that  nature  has  rights  beyond  the  call  of  grief,  he  put 
his  sentiment  calmly  aside  and  partook  as  simply  of  the 
repast  as  if  the  man's  presence  gave  no  cause  for  holding 
back. 

The  captain  was  uneasy  from  the  start,  moved,  I 
suspect,  by  some  superstitious  fear  of  evil  glance  from 
the  spirit  which  had  so  lately  split  its  chrysalis  and  gone 
free.  He  ate  hurriedly  and  cursed  under  his  breath, 
with  one  eye  on  the  food  and  the  other  on  the  stiffening 
body  on  the  floor.  It  was  evident  he  was  eager  to 
escape  from  the  cabin  with  its  threat  of  ghostly  harm, 
and  betake  himself  again  to  the  wider  freedom  of  the 
upper  air. 

I,  too,  was  disturbed  in  mind,  but  not  through  fear. 
There  is  a  sense  of  weight  that  comes  to  me — as  to  all 
thinking  men — with  the  near  view  of  the  great  change. 

37 

387S23 


38  The  Way  of  the  North 

If  I  were  a  god  I  could  devise  no  way  more  profoundly 
calculated  to  grow  respect  in  the  hearts  of  beings  I  had 
made  than  to  stop  the  machinery  of  one  occasionally 
that  the  rest  might  know  for  sure  they  were  but  the 
creatures  of  my  will.  Worship  is  but  a  thankless  task 
at  best,  and  it  cuts  deep  where  one  has  had  no  hand  in 
coming  to  dependence. 

Then,  too,  I  felt  a  smoulder  of  anger  with  myself  that 
I  had  been  faithless  to  the  girl's  confidence  in  the  mat 
ter  of  watching,  and  that  also  served  to  turn  me  from 
the  thought  of  food.  But,  above  all,  I  found  myself 
looking  again  and  again  at  her  with  a  curious  throb  of 
sympathy.  She  was  so  small,  and  so  patient  in  her 
grief!  The  brave  way  with  which  she  faced  the  future 
touched  an  answering  chord  in  my  heart.  It  was  David, 
if  I  mistake  not,  who  wept  and  plead  with  God  while 
his  child  was  ill,  but  who,  when  the  young  thing  died, 
rose  up  at  once  and  dried  his  eyes  and  went  quickly 
about  his  work.  I  have  always  liked  the  story,  and,  as 
with  it,  I  liked  the  way  the  girl  took  measure  of  her 
loss.  From  the  moment  of  his  hurt,  she  gave  her 
father  her  whole  thought  and  wrestled  unsparingly 
with  God  and  man  for  his  deliverance  from  death. 
But  now  that  he  was  gone  and  there  was  no  further  use 
to  strive,  she  no  longer  let  her  tears  down  foolishly,  but 
faced  her  world  bravely  and  dry-eyed.  • 

I  thought  of  the  comradeship  she  had  offered  me  and 
the  kindly  corner  promised  in  her  life,  and  I  was  ashamed 
I  should  be  sitting  with  the  others  when  I  might  be 
standing  with  her  as  a  helper  in  her  need.  As  I  ate,  I 
felt  again  the  frank  pressure  of  her  hand  and  the  wide- 
eyed  sympathy  of  her  eyes  when  she  had  come  to  thank 
me  in  the  night;  and  it  took  the  taste  entirely  from  my 


The  Way  of  the  North  39 

food.  The  thought  urged  to  action  and,  leaving  my 
meal  unfinished,  I  gathered  together  a  cup  of  tea,  sugar, 
a  biscuit  and  some  vodka  in  a  glass,  and  went  to  her. 

"Drink  this,  child,"  I  said.  "It  will  not  help  him— 
nor  would  he  wish  it — that  you  should  go  unfed."  She 
roused  herself  and  looked  at  me,  and,  in  blind  obedience 
to  the  order,  reached  out  her  hand  mechanically  for 
what  I  brought.  I  placed  it  beside  her  on  the  floor. 
The  bread  and  spirits  she  did  not  touch,  but  she  lifted 
the  sugar  to  her  lips,  then  changed  her  mind,  and  drop 
ping  it  into  the  tea  in  the  English  fashion,  stirred  it 
about  and  drank  the  mixture  with  evident  satisfaction. 
The  warmth  of  it  brought  the  colour  back  to  her  face 
and  gave  an  added  impulse  to  her  strength.  But  her 
eyes  wandered  from  me  to  the  captain  and  back  again 
as  if  there  was  inquiry  in  her  mind. 

"Must  I  go  back  now?"  she  said  suddenly. 

"Back  where?"  I  asked  in  turn.  The  thought  was 
sudden  and  I  did  not  quickly  grasp  it. 

"Back  where  you  found  me,"  she  answered  and 
her  eyes  went  again  to  the  captain  at  the  table,  as  if  she 
would  include  him  in  the  interrogation.  I  understood 
now  what  she  wanted. 

"He  will  not  object,"  I  said  soothingly.  "We  are 
near  land,  and  for  the  short  time  that  remains  you  shall 
have  my  room  here  and  stay."  Her  relief  was  so  great 
that  she  made  no  effort  to  conceal  it. 

"I  have  nothing  to  give  in  return,"  she  said,  "but  if 
God  rewards  good  deeds  there  will  be  much  to  your 
credit  to-day  for  your  goodness  to  me,  a  stranger." 
The  captain  had  finished  his  meal  and  came  toward 
us  as  she  spoke,  on  his  way  to  the  deck  above.  He 
intended  to  pass  without  notice,  but  she  got  to  her  feet 


40  The  Way  of  the  North 

and  made  as  if  she  would  address  him.  Evidently  he 
had  small  wish  to  talk  with  her,  though  he  could  not 
help  but  understand,  for  he  turned  his  head  from  her 
and  went  briskly  by;  but  she  was  not  to  be  put  off,  and 
called  sharply  after  him. 

"Captain,"  she  said,  "there  is  something  I  would 
ask  you.  Will  you  stop  a  moment,  please?"  He 
snorted  ungraciously,  and  I  could  see  he  was  consider 
ing  whether  it  would  be  more  fearsome  to  go  or  to  stay. 
Then,  having  decided  to  remain  and  face  the  danger, 
he  turned  abruptly  and  came  back. 

"What  is  it?"  he  said  shortly.  So  earnest  was  her 
purpose  that  the  girl  forgot  to  be  afraid.  She  looked 
the  captain  squarely  in  the  face,  and  spoke  swiftly  and 
without  a  tremor  in  her  tone. 

"Captain,"  she  said,  "is  it  true  that  we  are  near  the 
land?" 

"Yes,"  he  assented  tentatively.  I  thought  her  about 
to  ask  his  consent  to  her  sojourn  in  the  cabin  and  it 
annoyed  me,  seeing  that  I  had  told  her  that  I  had  al 
ready  arranged  the  thing. 

"Then  it  will  not  be  more  than  a  day  or  two  till  we 
come  to  port?" 

"  No,"  he  answered  in  the  same  curt  tone. 

"Then,"  she  said,  her  voice  rising  and  her  words 
coming  more  quickly  as  she  made  her  point,  "I  would 
have  it  arranged  that  my  father  be  not  buried  till  we 
reach  the  shore."  The  captain  and  I  looked  at  each 
other  in  surprise.  There  was  an  element  of  strange 
ness  in  the  request,  for  it  was  not  the  custom  to  long 
delay  interment  on  the  sea.  Then,  too,  the  girl  did  not 
plead  for  the  thing  as  a  favour,  but  calmly  announced 
her  intention  like  one  certain  and  having  authority. 


The  Way  of  the  North  41 

She  recognised,  if  we  did  not,  that  in  her,  and  her  only, 
lay  of  right  the  final  disposition  of  the  body  of  the  dead. 

I  knew,  without  recalling,  the  obstinate  superstition 
of  men  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  and  how  it 
would  work  against  the  retention  of  the  dead  man  for 
the  time  necessary  to  bring  him  safe  to  land.  Further 
more,  I  remembered  that  in  this  case  crew,  officers, 
and  passengers  were  alike  agreed  that  the  man  when 
alive  was  a  full  leaguer  with  the  powers  of  sin,  who  had 
laboured  actively  for  their  harm  in  stirring  up  the 
storm.  It  seemed  to  me,  therefore,  that  the  captain 
would  be  set  for  action  different  from  that  demanded 
by  the  girl,  and  I  waited  with  interest  to  hear  what  he 
would  say. 

He  looked  up  at  the  girl  and  he  looked  down  at  the 
floor,  but  at  all  times  he  was  careful  not  to  turn  his  eyes 
directly  on  the  dead.  His  colour  changed  with  his 
mood,  and  he  fidgeted  awkwardly  with  his  hands. 
The  girl  would  not  help  him  and  waited  for  him  to  speak. 

"Well,"  he  began  irresolutely,  "the  thing  is,  I  sup 
pose,  a  matter  of  choice.  But  he  will  be  just  as  wet 
ashore  in  a  bed  of  frozen  moss  as  he  ever  will  be  out 
here  in  the  sea.  And  for  my  part,  I  would  rather  it 
were  done  at  once  and  made  an  end  of."  Anna  Gregor- 
ovna's  face  flushed  at  his  frank  brutality,  but  she  held 
her  ground. 

"I  would  not  ask  it  for  myself,"  she  said  pleadingly, 
"but  my  father  had  a  horror  of  the  sea,  and  if  he  is 
buried  in  it  I  know  he  will  not  rest."  The  smoulder  of 
superstitious  fear  warmed  up  in  the  captain  at  the 
words.  He  glanced  sidewise  at  the  corpse  and  crossed 
himself  vigorously  twice. 

"God  forbid,"  he  said  piously,  "that  that  should 


42  The  Way  of  the  North 

ever  be!"  She  was  quick  to  notice  his  uneasiness  and, 
using  her  advantage,  played  promptly  on  his  fear. 

"Captain,"  she  said,  "it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  bind  a 
passing  shade  against  its  peace.  Surely  you  would  not 
have  it  on  your  soul  that  through  you  his  ghost  must 
walk  through  all  the  years!"  The  captain  shook  out 
his  hair  with  a  quick  movement  of  his  head,  and  his 
breath  went  out  in  an  inarticulate  roar.  He  looked 
from  one  to  the  other  of  us  for  all  the  world  like  an  ani 
mal  at  bay.  I  went  nearer  to  him  and  spoke  aside. 

"  Why  not  take  the  chance  ?  "  I  said  under  my  breath. 
"It  is  only  for  a  day,  and  besides  it  will  help  the  count 
with  Baranof."  He  stood  in  sullen  silence  for  a  con 
siderable  space,  but  ended  by  throwing  up  his  hands 
in  full  capitulation. 

"Well,"  he  said  reluctantly,  "I  will  think  about  it," 
and  turning  to  me,  added  in  a  lower  voice:  "In  the 
meantime,  for  God's  sake,  get  him  out  of  sight!" 
When  he  was  gone,  I  turned  to  the  girl  with  a  smile. 

"Fear  is  a  strong  persuader,"  I  said,  "and  you  have 
learned  well  how  to  put  it  into  use."  She  neither 
affirmed  nor  denied  the  imputation. 

"It  is  a  hateful  thing  to  use,"  she  said  simply,  "but 
in  the  steerage  it  was  a  like  mummery  of  fear,  I  believe, 
which  saved  my  life.  Before  you  came  I  said  charms 
to  keep  the  people  back — I  learned  to  do  it  in  a  play — 
and  they  were  afraid  and  let  me  go.  It  was  because 
they  thought  my  father  taught  them  to  me  that  they 
tried  to  throw  him  from  the  ship." 

"You  will  be  happier  here,"  I  said. 

"Not  happy,  but  I  shall  not  be  afraid.  I  am  glad  of 
the  comfort  and  safety  of  the  refuge.  But  do  you 
think,"  she  added  with  a  sudden  change  of  thought, 


The  Way  of  the  North  43 

"that  someone  would  go  forward  and  bring  out  my 
things?" 

"What  are  they?"  I  asked. 

"Two  boxes  and  the  rugs  we  used  as  covers  for  our 
beds." 

"Can  I  get  them  alone?" 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  she  answered.  "I  am  not 
afraid." 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  but  I  had  in  mind  the  strong 
injunction  of  the  captain  that  the  dead  man  should  be 
put  out  of  sight,  and  it  did  not  seem  the  part  of  wisdom 
to  delay  the  matter. 

"Before  we  go,"  I  added,  "I  must  see  that  your 
father  is  cared  for  and  set  decently  aside."  The  pope 
helped  me,  and  between  us  we  lifted  the  mattress  with 
the  dead  man  on  it  and  carried  the  sagging  burden  to 
the  pope's  room.  Then,  dismissing  the  girl  for  the 
moment,  I  washed  the  man's  face  and  neck,  smoothed 
his  hair  naturally  back,  tied  his  hands  decorously  across 
his  breast,  and  sent  the  pope  above  to  flatten  bullets  to 
lay  upon  his  eyes. 

It  came  to  me  to  search  the  body  for  papers  or  things 
of  value  that  should  be  preserved,  and  in  an  inner  pocket 
I  found  a  slender  purse  containing  gold.  There  was 
nothing  else  of  value  on  him,  save  that  round  his  neck 
was  a  chain  from  which  hung  the  Greek  cross  the  girl 
had  instanced  as  showing  him  still  within  the  faith.  It 
was  a  thing  of  worth,  with  chasing  and  enamel  on  the 
gold  of  the  face,  and  in  the  centre  was  set  a  coloured 
stone. 

I  unclasped  it,  carefully  folded  up  the  chain,  and, 
with  an  idea  of  looking  strictly  to  its  safety,  placed  it 
together  with  the  purse  in  the  inner  pocket  of  my  coat. 


44  The  Way  of  the  North 

I  had  not  seen  the  girl,  but  as  I  did  it  I  felt  a  touch  upon 
my  arm  and,  turning,  found  her  standing  closely  at 
my  side. 

"Give  them  to  me,"  she  said  slowly.  "Surely  you 
would  not  rob  the  dead!"  Her  manner  showed  more 
of  agitation  than  of  real  distrust,  but  there  was  enough 
of  accusation  in  her  eyes  to  make  my  blood  surge  wildly 
up  within  me. 

"I  meant  no  harm!"  I  exclaimed  hotly.  "I  only 
took  the  things  that  they  might  be  kept  for  you."  She 
flushed  till  her  whole  face  and  neck  were  red,  and  bent 
her  head  down  till  I  could  not  see  her  eyes. 

"I  knew  it  at  heart,"  she  said  humbly,  "but  trouble 
has  made  treacherous  things  of  both  my  temper  and  my 
faith." 

I  took  out  the  jewel  and  the  purse  and  threw  them  on 
the  bench.  She  lifted  the  cross  and  chain  and  clasped 
them  again  round  the  dead  man's  neck. 

"  It  has  never  left  him  since  he  was  a  child,"  she  said 
softly,  "and  I  know  that  he  would  miss  it  if  we  took  it 
now."  When  it  was  done,  she  rose  and  came  quite 
close  to  me. 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  must  think  of  me,"  she  said 
impulsively.  "It  seems  that  I  am  always  doing  some 
thing  that  needs  apology  to  you.  It  is  not  easy  to  tell 
you  I  was  wrong,  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  in  my  heart 
I  had  no  doubt  of  your  good  faith."  She  was  pleasant 
to  look  at  with  her  air  of  appealing  contrition,  and  her 
desire  to  be  understood  was  so  genuinely  a  charge  upon 
her  feelings  that  I  found  small  difficulty  in  granting 
what  she  asked. 

"I  understand,"  I  said  with  some  embarrassment. 
"There  will  be  no  need  to  speak  of  it  again."  Then, 


The  Way  of  the  North  45 

to  bridge  the  awkwardness  of  the  pause  and  bring  us 
back  to  common  things,  I  added:  "I  have  finished  here. 
If  you  like  now,  we  can  make  our  journey  forward." 

She  looked  at  me  with  sudden  gratitude  and  bowed 
in  acquiescence.  We  went  out  without  speaking;  and 
as  I  remember  it  no  word  was  spoken  till  we  reached 
the  hold.  The  peace  of  forgiveness  comes  at  times 
more  certainly  through  silence  than  through  words. 

The  hold  had  been  cleaned  since  we  were  there  before, 
but  nothing  could  strip  from  it  entirely  its  air  of  bleak 
and  wretched  desolation.  The  girl  took  the  lead  and 
advanced  at  once  to  the  dimly  lighted  spot  which,  to  the 
time  of  his  injury,  she  and  her  father  had  claimed  as 
their  own.  There  were  boxes  and  rugs  in  plenty  all 
about,  but  she  knew  where  her  own  had  been,  and  went 
directly  to  the  place.  I  was  interested  that  no  one  in 
the  cabin  spoke  to  her.  The  men  were  simply  indiffer 
ent  to  her  presence,  but  the  women  looked  up  at  her 
with  quick,  disdainful  eyes,  crossed  themselves  vigor 
ously,  and  turned  sullenly  away. 

She  paused  at  last  in  the  darkened  corner,  where  on 
my  first  visit  we  had  stood  at  bay,  and,  stooping,  felt 
along  the  wall  for  the  boxes.  But  they  were  not  where 
she  had  expected  to  find  them,  and  she  turned  to  me  in 
some  dismay. 

"They  have  been  moved,"  she  said  nervously.  "We 
shall  have  to  ask  where  they  have  been  put." 

"Do  not  worry,"  I  said  soothingly.  "It  is  likely 
the  captain  has  had  them  stowed  away  for  fear  they 
would  be  robbed.  I  will  send  for  the  steward  and  ask 
him."  Calling  one  of  the  hands  I  charged  him  with 
the  message,  and  while  he  went  she  walked  impatiently 
up  and  down  and  bit  her  lips  to  hide  her  growing  agita- 


46  The  Way  of  the  North 

tion.  Before  I  did,  she  saw  the  steward  coming,  but 
waited  bravely  for  me  to  question  him,  though  she  hung 
with  eager  interest  on  his  words. 

"Steward,"  I  said,  "what  has  become  of  this  woman's 
belongings  while  she  has  been  away?"  He  looked 
from  one  to  the  other  of  us  with  nervousness  that  was 
ill  concealed.  His  face  showed  the  uneasy  conscious 
ness  of  unwelcome  news,  though  in  speaking  he  in  no 
wise  voiced  it  in  his  words. 

"I  cannot  tell  you,  sir,"  he  said  with  assumed  frank 
ness.  He  edged  around  till  his  back  was  toward  Anna 
Gregorovna  and  she  could  not  see  his  face.  Then  his 
eyes  lighted  with  the  intelligence  he  had  concealed 
from  her,  and  with  an  effort  of  his  lips,  rather  than  his 
throat,  he  blurted  out  the  truth. 

"They  are  gone,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  scarce 
above  a  whisper.  "They  were  all  thrown  overboard 
in  the  night." 

I  glanced  at  Anna  Gregorovna  to  see  if  she  had  heard. 
The  steward's  voice  had  been  too  low  to  carry  to  her  the 
meaning  of  his  speech,  but  it  was  not  hid  from  her  that 
he  had  spoken  and  she  guessed  the  truth  from  the  ex 
pression  of  my  face. 

"They  have  not  dared!"  she  said  fiercely,  and  came 
swiftly  around  to  where  she  could  look  into  the  steward's 
eyes.  Neither  of  us  had  heart  or  word  to  make  her 
answer,  but  our  looks  were  guilty  pleaders  for  the  truth. 
For  full  a  moment  she  devoured  us  with  her  angry  eyes. 
Then  the  light  went  suddenly  out  of  her  face  and  she 
seemed  to  grow  visibly  smaller  as  she  shrank  into 
herself. 

"Don't  tell  me!"  she  cried  piteously.  "I  cannot 
bear  it!"  and  threw  up  her  hands  in  eloquent  appeal. 


The  Way  of  the  North  47 

Her  whole  body  shook  with  her  excitement  and  she 
swayed  so  from  side  to  side  I  thought  she  would  surely 
fall.  But  she  gathered  herself  bravely,  and  covering 
her  face  walked  unsteadily  to  a  near-by  chest  and  sat 
herself  limply  down.  Her  head  drooped  forward  till 
her  elbows  rested  on  her  knees,  her  breath  came  in 
great  sobs  and  then  the  fountains  of  the  deep  were 
opened  and  the  tears  came  down  like  rain. 

It  stirs  me  always  to  see  a  woman  weep,  and  here  I 
was  the  more  disturbed  because  I  found  her  weakness 
a  surprise.  With  the  fine  fatalism  of  the  women  of  our 
race  she  had  accepted  the  fiercer  buffets  of  fortune  that 
had  come  to  her,  patiently  and  with  serenity  of  soul. 
She  had  shown  no  weakness  when  she  had  made  shift 
to  defend  her  father's  life  and  she  had  mourned  him  at 
his  death  dry-eyed.  But  now  in  this  minor  trial,  when 
there  was  nothing  at  stake  for  her  but  a  parcel  of  foolish 
goods,  she  wept  like  a  child  and  made  wreck  of  her 
self-control. 

"Oh,  the  good  things!"  she  cried  between  her  sobs, 
" — my  wedding  clothes — and  the  linen  for  the  house! 
What  have  I  done  that  I  should  have  to  go  to  him  like 
this!"  There  was  that  in  her  wrongs  which  stirred  my 
very  bones  to  action.  I  had  to  do  something,  and 
before  I  knew  it  I  had  the  steward  by  the  throat  and 
shook  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  rat. 

"You  villain!"  I  exclaimed.  "You  knew  this  and 
you  did  not  tell  me  before?"  He  fought  himself  free 
and  answered  breathlessly: 

"I  only  heard  it  as  I  came,"  he  said  sullenly  and, 
breathing  hard,  he  stood  back  from  my  reach  and  fell 
to  feeling  tenderly  of  his  neck. 

"I   have   no   quarrel   with  you   then,"   I   rejoined 


48  The  Way  of  the  North 

apologetically.  "But  who  was  it  that  threw  out  the 
things?" 

"It  was  some  of  these,"  he  answered,  waving  his 
hand  toward  the  group  around  the  hold.  The  girl 
heard  him,  though  she  had  not  seemed  to  listen  while 
he  spoke. 

"But  why  did  they  do  it?"  she  interjected  breath 
lessly.  The  steward  hesitated  in  fear  of  giving  her 
offence. 

"I  think  it  was  because  you  made  the  spells,"  he  said 
cautiously.  "The  things  were  yours  and  might  do 
them  harm,  and  they  threw  them  out  because  they  were 
afraid." 

"Then  they  were  afraid,"  she  said  between  her 
teeth.  She  sat  for  some  moments  looking  straight 
before  her,  while  her  anger  wrestled  with  her  grief. 
The  anger  conquered,  for  she  dried  her  eyes,  and  stand 
ing  up,  began  to  look  fixedly  at  first  one  and  then  an 
other  of  the  groups  of  people  in  the  place.  Her  fingers 
worked  spasmodically  and  for  the  moment  she  seemed 
to  have  lost  the  power  of  self-control. 

"And  they  were  afraid!"  she  repeated  ironically,  as 
if  to  herself.  "Very  well  then!  Since  they  would 
do  it,  they  shall  pay  for  it  in  fear."  Before  we  could 
stop  her,  she  had  caught  down  her  hair  with  a  swift 
touch  of  her  hand  and,  with  a  shake  of  her  head,  went 
gliding  out  away  from  us  along  the  floor.  She  did  not 
seem  to  walk,  but  bent  and  swung  in  changing  curves 
with  a  rhythmic  motion  that  was  curiously  like  a  bird's. 

The  people  in  the  cabin  did  not  see  her  till  she  was 
half  way  down  the  room.  Then  there  was  a  frightened 
cry  of  warning  that  ran  like  fire  from  lip  to  lip.  Those 
beyond  her  stood  not  on  the  order  of  their  going  and 


The  Way  of  the  North  49 

crowded  in  mad  haste  out  through  the  open  door. 
But  the  poor  fools  this  side  who  found  her  between 
them  and  the  only  avenue  of  escape  saw  no  way  open 
for  them  by  which  they  might  resolve  the  burden  of 
their  fears.  They  did  not  dare  to  pass  lest  the  evil 
of  her  glance  should  light  on  them  and  blight;  and  yet 
they  were  wholly  heartsick  when  they  thought  to  stay. 
The  men  gave  way  till  they  faced  the  danger  with  their 
backs  against  the  wall.  Their  wives  and  children 
clung  to  them  in  panic,  and  the  latter  hid  their  faces  in 
their  mother's  skirts.  One  woman  in  her  fright  went 
on  her  knees  and  with  babbling  voice  began  to  pray 
aloud. 

The  girl  was  a  good  actress  and  had  been  well  taught. 
She  threw  herself  into  the  mimicry  with  an  abandon 
that  was  not  good  to  see.  So  strong  was  the  unhal 
lowed  seeming  of  it  all  that,  though  I  knew  it  to  be  but 
a  sham,  at  times,  as  I  watched  her,  the  goose-flesh  rose 
and  quivered  all  along  my  back.  The  steward  not 
being  in  the  secret  was  in  as  great  a  pother  as  the  rest, 
and  once,  when  her  eyes  rested  upon  him  for  a  moment 
and  she  paused  and  seemed  about  to  single  him  out  for 
notice,  I  heard  his  teeth  chatter  as  if  he  had  a  chill. 

At  first  she  did  not  speak,  though  her  lips  moved 
constantly,  as  if  she  were  weaving  some  fatal  web  of 
speech,  too  subtle  to  be  told  aloud.  Her  eyes  were  set 
above  her  victims'  heads  in  wide  unseeing  gaze,  and  at 
times  she  stooped  down  and  made  cabalistic  markings 
wTith  her  finger  on  the  floor.  Suddenly  she  changed 
her  plan  and  stopped  short  in  one  of  her  whirlings 
round,  to  point  with  accusing  finger  at  one  of  the  shrink 
ing  figures  by  the  wall. 

"Arseni  Kuznetzof,"  she  said  in  her  clear  voice. 


50  The  Way  of  the  North 

"when  you  helped  destroy  my  father's  things,  did  you 
think  of  the  time  when  your  Marfa  was  mad  with  the 
crying  sickness  and  he  gave  her  that  which  helped  her 
and  made  her  well?  No,  but  when  she  is  sick  again 
in  the  new  land  where  we  shall  come,  you  will  remem 
ber  what  you  have  done  to  him  and  to  me.  You  will 
pray  for  her  and  you  will  weep  and  your  friends  will 
pour  out  fear.  But  it  will  avail  you  nothing,  for  my 
father  is  dead  and  the  succour  cannot  come  again.  And 
she  will  be  sick,  Arseni;  she  will  be  sick!" 

The  man  quailed  visibly  as  if  she  had  struck  him  a 
body  blow.  His  wife,  at  the  mention  of  her  name, 
dropped  on  the  floor  beside  him,  and,  as  the  girl  ended 
her  bitter  charge,  caught  him  about  the  knees  and  burst 
hysterically  into  tears.  He  was  too  strongly  dazed  to 
think  of  an  answer  and,  flatted  against  the  wrall  as  if  he 
would  push  through,  stood  motionless  with  his  eyes 
glued  on  Anna  Gregorovna  in  helpless  fascination. 
But  I  saw  his  hand  go  down  with  awkward  tender 
ness  to  the  head  of  the  frightened  woman  at  his  side, 
and  he  drew  forward  the  skirt  of  his  long  coat  so  that 
it  hid  her  face. 

But,  the  diatribe  ended,  the  girl  did  not  stop  to 
measure  its  effect.  She  was  off  again  across  the  room, 
looking  for  another  face  sufficiently  familiar  to  justify 
attack.  She  found  it  half  way  down  the  circle  and 
pointed  the  accusing  finger  as  before. 

"Vassili  Shapkin,"  she  began,  and  paused.  The 
man,  a  stout  fellow  with  a  shock  of  hair  that  almost 
hid  his  eyes,  turned  his  back  upon  her  promptly,  lifted 
his  shoulders,  bent  down  his  head,  and  awaited  her 
attack.  But  it  did  not  come  as  he  had  thought.  Anna 
Gregorovna  had  overestimated  her  strength  and  the 


The  Way  of  the  North  51 

break  came  as  she  singled  him  by  name.  She  staggered 
slightly  and  her  extended  hand  went  groping  out  as  if 
she  could  not  see.  I  sprang  forward  to  her,  but  before 
I  reached  her  side  she  swerved  dizzily  in  her  place, 
cried  out,  and  fell  headlong  to  the  floor.  Her  fall  broke 
the  spell  that  had  held  her  audience  bound.  Before 
she  was  down,  they  were  in  mad  stampede  to  put  the 
distance  between  them  and  her  which  should  take 
them  outside  the  baleful  circle  of  her  eyes. 

I  stooped  above  the  girl  and  shook  her  to  bring  her 
back  to  life,  but  she  was  wholly  limp  and  gave  no  an 
swering  heed.  I  loosened  her  dress  and  chafed  her 
hands  and  considered  what  to  do.  It  took  no  especial 
skill  to  decide  her  danger  not  to  be  extreme.  It  was 
a  case  which  time  would  cure  and  that  without  good 
offices  from  me.  But  it  would  not  do  to  leave  her  to 
the  mercy  of  the  people  she  had  banned,  and  I  set  my 
self  to  getting  her  away.  The  steward  had  deserted 
and  bolted  with  the  rest,  and,  there  being  no  other  way, 
I  gathered  her  up  against  me  and  lifted  her  in  my  arms. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  so  held  a  woman  to 
me,  and  I  was  glad  I  was  alone.  But  I  think  the  one 
feeling  that  was  strongest  in  me  when  I  came  to  think 
it  over  was  astonishment  that  I  should  find  her  such  a 
load.  Women  always  affect  me  with  a  sense  of  their 
delicacy  and  small  size,  and  this  girl  had  seemed  so 
slender  I  was  startled  to  find  her  of  such  weight. 

I  arranged  her  with  her  head  in  comfort  on  my 
shoulder,  and  with  no  little  difficulty  hoisted  myself  up 
the  ladder  and  so  got  clear  of  the  hold.  As  I  reached 
the  deck  I  saw  the  stampeders  gathered  about  the 
captain  in  excited  crowd  and  gesticulating  wildly  in 
their  efforts  to  make  him  understand.  They  stopped 


52  The  Way  of  the  North 

awkwardly  as  I  passed  and  stood  gaping  at  my  limp 
burden  with  a  rigidity  of  terror  that  was  almost  awe. 
The  captain's  face  was  as  suspicious  as  the  rest. 

I  passed  them  in  silence  and  descended  the  cabin 
stairs.  The  girl  still  hung  a  dead  weight  in  my  arms, 
and  the  moisture  stood  freely  out  on  me  before  I  got 
her  to  her  berth.  I  unscrewed  the  port  and  struck 
her  face  gently  with  a  moistened  cloth,  and  at  length 
she  moved  her  head  and  gave  signs  of  returning  life. 
But  she  had  not  opened  her  eyes  when  the  steward, 
peering  cautiously  around  the  door,  spoke  softly  to 
me  and  beckoned  me  outside. 

"The  captain  wants  you,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "You 
will  find  him  on  the  deck."  He  spoke  with  one  eye 
always  on  the  door  as  if  he  expected  momentarily  to 
see  Anna  Gregorovna  burst  out  and  pounce  upon  him 
where  he  stood;  and,  his  message  delivered,  without 
waiting  for  an  answer  he  as  promptly  went  away. 

I  looked  back  into  the  room  and  assured  myself 
that  my  patient  could  be  safely  left  to  finish  her  own 
cure,  and,  straightening  somewhat  the  disorder  of  my 
dress,  I  took  heed  of  the  captain's  summons  and  went 
obediently  above.  He  looked  at  me  for  full  a  minute 
in  silent  indignation  before  he  could  trust  himself  to 
speak. 

"  A  nice  mess  you  and  your  hell-cat  have  stirred  up 
with  these  people,"  he  burst  out  harshly.  "Is  she 
dead?" 

"  No,"  I  said.     "  It  is  nothing  but  a  faint." 

"The  more  the  pity!  I  had  hoped  to  bury  both  of 
them  at  once."  He  was  so  frankly  crestfallen  at  the 
failure  of  his  plan,  that  I  laughed  in  sheer  enjoyment 
of  his  discomfiture. 


The  Way  of  the  North  53 

"Surely,"  I  said,  "you  do  not  believe  that  she  could 
really  conjure  those  cattle  to  their  hurt  ?  "  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders  deprecatingly. 

"One  never  knows,"  he  said  gravely,  "and  I  saw 
some  of  it  myself."  I  felt  it  would  be  but  harm  to  the 
girl  to  keep  her  secret  from  him,  so  I  told  him  what  she 
had  confessed  to  me  and  how  it  chanced  that  she  had 
set  herself  to  take  pay  for  her  lost  goods  in  fear.  He 
heard  me  silently  and  with  evident  relief.  But,  when 
all  was  said,  there  was  still  a  lingering  suspicion  that 
rankled  in  his  mind. 

"Well,"  he  said  finally,  "if  she  is  not  dead,  she  must 
needs  stay  on  board,  but  she  had  better  keep  her  cabin 
if  she  sets  store  on  her  life.  And  this  at  least  she  has 
lost  by  taking  toll;  the  man  goes  overboard  as  soon 
as  we  can  sew  him  up." 

I  laboured  with  him  strenuously,  but  his  mind  was 
already  made;  and  truly  without  some  such  concession 
to  their  superstitious  fear,  there  was  strong  chance  of 
mutiny  among  both  passengers  and  crew.  So  at  last 
I  left  him  and  went  down  in  the  growing  dusk  to  break 
the  matter  to  the  girl. 

She  had  recovered  so  far  as  to  close  and  bolt  the 
door,  and  the  only  tangible  sign  I  had  of  her  was  the 
convulsive  sobbing  from  within,  which  served  to  wear 
out  her  grief.  I  knocked  again  and  again,  but  she 
would  not  open  to  me.  There  was  a  light  in  the  pope's 
room,  and  I  found  the  sailmakers  working  with  the 
body  and  preparing  it  for  its  final  plunge.  The  cap 
tain  had  not  waited  when  his  mind  was  once  made  up, 
and  the  men  had  been  set  to  begin  their  gruesome  work 
while  I  yet  made  argument  with  him  on  the  deck.  I 
watched  them  helplessly,  and,  as  I  found  the  heart, 


54  The  Way  of  the  North 

went  back  to  the  task  of  making  Anna  Gregorovna 
hear. 

The  men  finished  their  task  and  went  away.  The 
place  settled  down  to  its  wonted  evening  calm,  and  the 
only  sound  that  broke  the  stillness  was  the  stifled  catch 
of  the  girl's  breath  that  still  came  to  me  through  the 
door.  Then  I  heard  the  pope  descend  from  the  deck 
and  pass  through  the  cabin  to  his  room.  When  he 
came  out  again  he  was  clad  in  his  priestly  robes.  He 
came  over  to  me  and  bowed  to  me  as  courteously  as  if 
I  had  been  a  stranger. 

"The  captain  is  about  to  bury  Gregor  Ivanovitch 
Garin,"  he  said  in  an  undertone.  "If  his  daughter 
desires  to  be  present,  it  behooves  her  to  come  at  once." 

"I  have  not  been  able  to  make  her  hear,"  I  answered. 
"The  door  is  locked  and  she  thinks  the  body  is  to 
stay."  The  pope's  face  became  wistful,  and  he  clasped 
his  hands  together  and  sighed  as  if  the  girl's  grief  had 
been  his  own. 

"I  know,"  he  said  sadly.  "I,  too,  tried  to  move  the 
captain,  but  it  was  of  no  effect.  I  am  going  now," 
he  added,  putting  his  hand  upon  my  arm,  "but  you 
will  try  once  more,  I  know,  to  reach  the  unhappy 
creature  before  it  is  too  late,"  He  moved  away  with 
his  serene  step;  and  turning  again  to  the  door,  I  ad 
dressed  myself  to  the  task  before  me. 

"Anna — Anna  Gregorovna,"  I  called,  "do  you  hear 
me  there  inside?  If  you  would  see  your  father  this 
one  more  time,  open  without  delay."  Either  she  had 
become  more  calm  or  there  was  that  in  my  demand 
which  had  convinced  her  of  the  need.  I  heard  a  move 
ment  as  of  feet,  the  rustle  of  her  dress,  and  the  key 
clicked  in  the  lock  as  she  sprang  it  sharply  back.  She 


The  Way  of  the  North  55 


opened  the  door  half  round  and  stood  holding  by  the 
latch.  Her  face  was  swollen  with  much  weeping, 
her  dress  disordered,  and  the  pathetic  droop  of  her 
figure  gave  earnest  proof  of  her  distress.  I  told  her 
in  few  words  what  had  happened,  but  she  passed  it  by 
almost  as  if  she  did  not  hear. 

"It  does  not  matter,"  she  said  apathetically,  but  she 
turned  away  and  passed  her  hand  before  her  eyes. 
Then  she  came  out  of  the  room,  moving  unsteadily 
like  one  in  a  dream,  and  made  as  if  she  would  have  gone 
to  where  her  father  was. 

"Do  not  go  there!"  I  said  sharply.  "He  is  no  longer 
as  he  was  and  you  will  be  happier  away." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said  simply,  and  went  steadily 
on.  I  think  the  close-canvassed  figure  with  the  shot 
at  its  feet  was  a  shock  to  her  as  it  had  been  to  me  when 
I  saw  it  first.  But  she  said  nothing  and  went  close  to 
it  and  touched  it  here  and  there  tenderly  with  her  hand. 

"I  would  have  liked  to  see  his  face,"  she  said  drearily, 
"and  now  that  naught  else  remains,  I  wish  I  had  kept 
the  cross."  It  would  be  no  hardship  to  repair  the  break, 
and  it  came  to  me  to  unstitch  the  canvas  and  gratify 
her  wish.  With  my  knife  I  cut  the  seams  along  the  head 
and  laid  back  the  cloth  that  covered  up  the  face. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  sight,  for  the  leads  had  been  too 
light  to  firmly  hold  the  lids,  and  the  eyes  were  wide  and 
staring  into  space.  I  would  have  covered  him  again, 
but  she  stayed  me  and  bent  above  him  with  a  gentle 
ness  of  love  that  made  it  certain  that  she  at  least  did 
not  see  in  him  the  sunken  horror  that  death  had 
wrought,  but  only  the  gracious  kinship  she  had  known 
in  life. 

There  were  steps  on  the  floor  without,  and  looking 


56  The  Way  of  the  North 

I  saw  that  the  bearers  were  coming  to  carry  out  the 
dead. 

"We  must  be  quick,"  I  said,  and  drew  up  the  flap 
again  into  its  place.  The  girl's  hand  was  on  mine  and 
she  held  me  back. 

"The  cross,"  she  said  thickly — "I  want  to  take  the 
cross."  She  thrust  her  hand  carefully  beneath  the 
canvas  and  felt  about  his  neck.  Then,  with  a  cry,  she 
went  searching  down  along  the  body  as  far  as  the  nar 
row  cover  would  permit.  With  mad  haste  she  pushed 
down  the  flap,  tearing  at  the  stitches  till  the  breast 
was  exposed  and  both  of  us  could  see.  And  then  she 
rose  up  and  looked  at  me  with  a  great  and  bitter  accu 
sation  in  her  eyes.  For  the  chain  was  not  about  the 
man's  neck,  and  it  and  the  jewel  were  no  longer  there. 


CHAPTER  V 

ANNA  GREGOROVNA  made  no  charge  against  me 
beyond  the  accusation  of  her  eyes.  And  this  fact  I 
prize,  in  that  she  had  no  knowledge  of  other  attendance 
on  her  father  than  my  own,  and  I  alone  had  held  the 
secret  of  the  cross.  To  me,  of  course,  the  explanation 
was  not  far  to  seek.  Somehow  the  sailmakers  had  come 
upon  the  jewel  while  they  encased  the  dead,  and  with 
their  work  done  and  the  body  sewed  up  securely  against 
search,  they  had  felt  free  and  safe  to  take  the  relic  for 
their  pains. 

But  all  this  time  the  girl  had  been  shut  up  with  her 
grief  and  had  no  knowledge  of  these  things.  So  it  was 
not  strange  that,  coming  unwarned  upon  her  loss,  the 
waters  of  her  bitterness  welled  up  uncalled. 

Perhaps,  though,  the  outcome  would  have  differed 
had  there  been  longer  time.  For  while  we  stood  and 
looked,  the  men  came  in  from  the  cabin  and  signified 
their  wish  to  take  the  body  out.  I  drew  up  the  canvas 
hastily  so  as  to  hide  the  uncovered  face,  and  tucked  in 
the  loosened  edges  as  I  might.  The  girl  watched  me 
in  silence  with  the  same  look  of  agonised  interrogation 
in  her  eyes.  I  thought  she  would  speak,  but  when  the 
bearers  lifted  the  body  and  prepared  to  go,  she  turned 
her  gaze  wholly  upon  them  with  like  mournful  interest, 
and  as  they  passed  out,  she  followed  close  behind  them 
without  another  glance  at  me. 

The  pope  met  the  small  procession  as  it  cleared  the 

57 


58  The  Way  of  the  North 

hatches  and  led  us  to  the  ship's  quarter,  where  a  bier 
had  been  made  ready  with  a  convenient  board.  On 
this  the  man  was  placed,  and  the  pope,  taking  station 
at  the  head,  began  to  chant  the  service  for  the  dead.  It 
was  more  than  black  above,  but  two  torches  which  had 
been  set  up  near  at  hand,  made  visible  the  face  of  the 
priest  and  his  purple  robe,  and  sent  the  shadows  dancing 
grotesquely  over  the  familiar  things  around. 

If  there  were  other  watchers  of  the  ceremony,  they 
remained  outside  the  circle  of  light.  Once  or  twice  I 
thought  I  caught  murmured  responses  to  the  chants, 
but  when  it  came  to  the  prostrations,  Anna  Gregorovna 
and  I  went  through  them  by  ourselves.  Steadying  her 
self  by  a  shroud,  she  stood  quietly  by  and  made  no 
protest  or  even  lamentation.  She  responded  mechanic 
ally  to  the  calls  of  the  service,  but  there  was  that  in  her 
manner  which  showed  how  near  she  was  to  breaking 
down. 

When  all  was  done  and  the  last  prayer  said,  the  men 
lifted  the  body  to  the  rail  and  waited  for  the  final  bene 
diction  of  the  priest  before  letting  it  go  down.  Anna 
Gregorovna  quailed  before  this,  the  supreme  test  of 
parting,  and  involuntarily  I  put  out  my  hand  to  steady 
her  lest  she  should  fall.  She  saw  the  action  and  looked 
at  me  with  dull  eyes,  and  then  with  a  shiver  of  recol 
lection,  she  drew  herself  away.  The  momentary  dis 
traction,  however,  was  enough  to  recall  her  to  herself 
and  she  turned  to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  with  both 
hands  on  the  rail  watched  bravely  while  the  body  slid 
over  into  the  sea. 

As  the  bearers  poised  their  burden  for  the  plunge,  the 
loosened  flap  of  cloth  fell  down  on  the  dead  man's 
breast,  leaving  the  head  exposed,  and  the  last  we  saw 


The  Way  of  the  North  59 

of  Gregor  Ivanovitch  Gariu  was  his  awful  face,  sucked 
down  like  a  drowning  man's  to  death,  with  his  open 
eyes  turned  up  as  if  appealing,  and  the  bubbles  gathering 
like  his  last  breath  above  the  spot  where  he  went  down. 

Startled  out  of  her  composure  by  the  unexpected 
horror,  the  girl  leaned  far  down  across  the  bulwark, 
stretched  out  her  hands  as  if  in  succour,  and  cried  out 
aloud.  And  then  a  strange  thing  happened.  For 
scarcely  was  the  sound  of  her  voice  dead  in  our  ears, 
when,  from  somewhere  out  in  the  foggy  sea,  beyond 
the  limit  lighted  by  our  torches,  there  came  back,  as  if 
in  answer,  the  sound  of  a  human  voice. 

In  its  unexpectedness,  the  sound  had  all  the  seeming 
of  a  coming  from  the  dead  and  stirred  us  with  an  op 
pressive  sense  of  mystery.  Every  man  among  us 
crossed  himself  with  vigour,  and  the  girl  undoubtedly 
felt  it  as  a  resurrection,  for  after  listening  intently  for  a 
moment,  she  leaned  further  out  and  called  again.  Like 
an  echo,  there  came  back  the  answer,  as  surely  as  before. 
But  this  time  the  sound  was  distinctly  nearer  and  like 
a  thing  of  earth;  and  as  I  listened  I  clearly  caught  along 
with  it  the  muffled  sound  of  oars.  Those  about  me 
heard  them  at  the  same  time,  and  one  of  the  men 
snatched  up  a  torch,  and  thrusting  it  forward  and  high 
above  his  head,  waved  it  to  increase  the  flame  and  widen 
out  the  light  in  the  direction  from  which  the  sound  had 
come.  But  the  mist  shut  us  in  like  a  veil,  and  after  a 
moment's  pause,  he  threw  the  torch  with  all  the  strength 
of  his  arm  far  out  into  the  sea.  As  it  dropped,  there 
was  a  sudden  shout  of  consternation  from  the  distance, 
and  then  the  torch  sank  sputtering  into  the  waves. 
But  in  the  instant,  we  had  seen  out  there  a  boat  of  size, 
and  the  shadowy  figures  of  the  men  who  occupied  it. 


60  The  Way  of  the  North 

The  girl  gave  a  great  sob  and  ran  back  from  the  rail. 
What  she  had  hoped  for,  I  know  not,  but  it  had  been 
sufficiently  of  worth  to  her  that  her  disappointment  in 
not  finding  it  was  great.  She  waited  no  further  tidings, 
but,  covering  her  face,  slipped  quietly  away  and  went 
down  again  below. 

Not  so  the  rest  of  us.  The  lure  of  curiosity  held  us 
straining  out  into  the  gray,  in  eager  questioning  who 
those  strange  voyagers  might  be.  And  as  the  news 
spread  through  the  ship,  those  hearing  came  by  twos 
and  threes,  till  well-nigh  all  our  company  was  leaned 
against  the  side. 

There  was  a  sharp  command  from  the  captain  and 
the  mate  came  hurriedly  down  among  us,  and,  seizing 
the  other  torch,  dropped  it  blazing  into  the  sea. 

"  No  lights  for  the  Spaniards! "  he  said  grimly.  " Let 
them  get  their  gauge  of  us  in  some  other  way." 

Up  to  this  moment  I  think  that  none  of  us  had  guessed 
the  strangers  as  anything  but  friends.  But  with  the 
mate's  words  came  the  recollection  of  rumours  heard  at 
starting  concerning  an  unhallowed  alliance  against  us 
of  England  and  Spain;  and  I  remembered  that  at 
Okhotsk  there  had  been  talk  of  a  Spanish  vessel  sent 
from  California  to  harry  our  defenceless  northern  coast. 
And  so  it  became  but  ordinary  caution  to  put  out  our 
lights  and  look  askance  at  these  unnamed  visitors,  come 
to  us  like  ghosts  out  of  the  night,  and  in  all  things  to 
charge  ourselves  as  best  we  might  against  their  threat 
ened  piracies. 

And  in  this  stress  I  found  need  to  raise  the  captain 
up  again  in  my  esteem.  When  he  turned  coward  in  the 
storm  and  left  us  in  the  hand  of  God,  he  dropped  down 
fairly  to  the  floor  of  my  regard,  and  later  I  had  found 


The  Way  of  the  North  61 

him  food  for  bitter  humour  in  his  superstitious  terror 
of  the  girl.  But  now,  with  only  man  to  fight,  and  with 
no  superstitious  fear  upon  him,  he  showed  himself  both 
ready  and  fit  for  the  work  he  had  to  do. 

The  women  were  sent  below;  such  arms  as  the  ship 
afforded  came  from  their  stowage  and  were  served  out 
to  such  as  understood  their  use;  and  watches  were 
quickly  set  at  intervals  along  the  rails  to  warn  us  of 
sinister  approaches  from  all  sides.  Meanwhile,  the 
boat  had  answered  to  our  hail,  and  having  come  to  us, 
lay  rubbing  up  and  down  against  our  side  with  the  long 
lifting  of  the  sea. 

Our  defences  being  complete,  the  captain  ordered  a 
light  and  lowered  it  over  the  side,  till  we  could  clearly 
see  the  men  and  boat  below.  The  craft  was  a  large 
skin  canoe,  such  as  is  used  by  the  natives  of  these  north 
ern  seas,  and  in  it  were  eight  men,  half  of  whom  were 
white.  Both  brown  and  white  looked  at  us  with  what 
seemed  to  me  more  of  fear  than  of  eagerness  to  fight. 
Had  it  not  been  that  our  guns  were  pointed  at  them,  I 
think  even  then  they  would  have  run  away.  On  their 
part,  they  made  no  shift  to  signal  us,  but  talked  excitedly 
and  in  low  tones  among  themselves.  The  captain 
leaned  over  the  bulwark  arid  called  to  them. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  said  commandingly.  There  was 
a  moment's  excited  conference  in  the  boat,  and  then 
the  man  in  the  stern,  who  seemed  to  be  in  authority, 
spoke  up  and  answered  hesitatingly,  but  in  our  own 
tongue: 

"Friends." 

"Are  you  armed?" 

"No,"  came  promptly  back  the  answer. 

"How  many  boats  are  there  of  you?" 


6s  The  Way  of  the  North 

"There  is  but  one.     We  are  alone." 

"Then  come  aboard  and  I  will  talk  with  you,"  said 
the  captain. 

A  rope  ladder  was  let  down,  and  a  man  at  the  stern 
and  a  companion  came  climbing  up  the  side.  As  they 
reached  the  deck,  each  man  was  seized  by  two  sturdy 
seamen  and  led  to  where  the  captain  stood.  They  made 
no  resistance,  and  after  a  moment  spent  in  searching 
them  for  hidden  weapons,  the  guards  released  them  and 
left  them  standing  by  themselves. 

"Bring  a  light  here,"  said  the  captain.  The  mate 
lifted  a  torch  and  carried  it  around  so  as  to  throw  its 
illumination  on  the  leader's  face.  Then,  with  a  cry  of 
astonishment,  he  thrust  it  into  the  hand  of  the  nearest 
sailor  and,  rushing  to  the  stranger,  threw  his  arms 
around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks. 

"Ivan!"  he  shouted,  "is  it  only  you?"  The  stranger 
peered  at  him  in  startled  inquiry. 

"Ssava!"  he  gasped  in  joyful  recognition.  His  voice 
was  almost  a  shout,  and  he  fell  to  returning  the  mate's 
embrace  with  eager  interest.  There  was  a  fire  of 
excited  question  between  the  two,  during  which  we 
waited,  and  then  the  mate,  recovering  himself  with 
belated  thought  as  to  his  duty,  turned  apologetically  to 
the  captain. 

"It  is  my  brother,"  he  said  joyfully,  "who  has  been 
in  America  with  the  Company  for  seven  years.  We 
are  near  port  and  the  fog  is  low.  Yesterday,  from  the 
high  ground,  they  saw  our  masts  above  the  mist  and 
believed  we  were  the  Spaniards,  of  whom  they,  too,  have 
been  in  fear.  This  boat  was  sent  to  spy  us  out,  and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  accident  of  the  burial,  they  would 
not  have  made  themselves  known  until  they  were  cer- 


The  Way  of  the  North  63 

tain  who  we  were.  They  thought  it  was  the  Spaniards 
who  had  captured  them,"  he  shouted,  turning  to  his 
brother  and  slapping  him  on  the  back,  "and  at  the  same 
time  we  thought  it  was  the  Spaniards  come  to  capture 
us!"  He  capered  like  a  boy,  and,  rushing  to  the  side, 
called  out  to  the  men  below: 

"Come  up,"  he  bawled,  "come  up  and  be  eaten  as 
Ivan  Zavialof  has  been!"  There  was  an  instant  stir 
in  the  canoe  and  a  wave  of  startled  comment  ran 
through  it  from  stem  to  stern.  Ivan  Zavialof  went  to 
his  brother's  side  and  checked  his  childishness.  Taking 
his  place,  he  spoke  reassuringly  to  the  frightened  pris 
oners,  and  in  another  moment  they  were  climbing 
eagerly  up  onto  our  decks. 

And  yet  when  the  thing  was  over,  I  was  not  wholly 
happy  in  my  mind.  The  certainty  that  we  were  not 
to  fight  brought  a  distinct  feeling  of  relief,  though  we 
were  well  prepared  for  combat  and  in  the  fighting 
would  have  made  good  account.  It  was  the  lessening 
of  nerve  tension,  I  suppose,  and  the  fact  that  I  was 
unstrung  from  the  excitement  of  the  death  and  burial 
that  had  gone  before.  There  was  uneasiness  of  thought, 
if  nothing  more,  and  I  found  no  lightness  or  elation  in 
my  thankfulness  for  our  escape.  But  this  was  not  the 
case  with  the  majority,  for  no  sooner  was  the  matter 
proved  and  the  opportunity  gone,  than  the  whole  ship 
bubbled  over  like  children  with  joy  at  the  delivery.  So, 
while  to  be  in  fashion,  I  took  congratulations  and  made 
no  sign  to  spoil  the  pleasure  of  the  rest,  inside  I  held 
my  thought  and  found  small  interest  in  the  roystering. 

It  was  not  a  mood  that  leaned  toward  quiet  in  me,  and 
I  set  my  mind  to  think  of  something  that  would  give 
me  active  work;  and  as  I  canvassed  the  opportunities 


64  The  Way  of  the  North 

that  came  up  in  my  thought,  I  could  think  of  nothing 
more  seasonable  than  to  seek  out  the  sail -makers  forward 
and  retrieve  the  stolen  cross.  There  was  a  scent  of 
unpleasantness  about  the  matter  that  had  appeal  for  me. 

But  whatever  of  adventure  there  promised  in  the 
task,  it  failed  of  savour  in  the  realisation.  I  found  the 
fellows  almost  without  search.  They  had  felt  so  cer 
tain  in  their  filching,  and  had  judged  the  chance  so 
wide  that  could  lead  to  their  undoing,  that  they  had  no 
story  ready,  and  gave  up  their  ill-gotten  plunder  with 
out  bluster  or  appeal.  So  I  returned  to  my  cabir  with 
small  comfort  in  my  soul,  and  there  my  temper  was 
not  improved  by  finding  that  the  steward  had  forgotten 
to  lay  out  my  bed.  I  found  some  relief  in  doing  this 
myself,  but  when  it  was  done,  I  had  no  heart  for  going 
again  on  deck  and  so  retired.  But  I  should  have  liked 
to  get  my  hand  upon  the  steward  before  I  laid  me  down. 

It  was  the  first  night  of  four  which  had  been  without 
alarms,  and  I  saw  and  heard  nothing  till  morning. 
Then  the  waking  was  to  a  new  and  different  world. 
My  grievances  had  flown,  the  fog  had  lifted,  and  the 
sky  was  soft  with  the  wet  blue  of  spring.  The  sea  was 
level  as  a  floor,  and  the  breeze  had  just  enough  of 
strength  to  set  us  moving  on  it.  But  the  thing  which 
changed  the  setting  and  gave  to  it  its  thrill  of  novelty 
and  charm  was  the  great  rim  of  firm  ground  that 
stretched  along  and  filled  the  eastern  sky-line  and  woke 
up  in  us  the  belief  that  soon  again  we  should  go  free- 
footed  on  dry  land. 

God  knows,  however,  that  there  was  little  pleasure 
in  the  prospect  outside  of  this  idea.  I  never  saw  a  land 
that  gave  back  less  of  human  sympathy.  All  the  coast 
was  hills,  abrupt  and  snowbound  and  covered  with 


The  Way  of  the  North  65 

close  timber  down  to  the  water's  edge.  Off  to  the 
north  was  one  clear  peak  as  white  and  round  as  a 
woman's  breast.  But  in  all  the  distance  there  was  no 
sign  of  human  interest  or  occupation,  and  the  clearness 
of  the  air  hardened  the  outlines  of  trees  and  rocks  and 
hills  as  if  in  this  new  place  Nature  had  found  no  time 
for  the  soft  graces,  but  faced  her  fact,  stripped  grimly 
to  the  buff.  The  captain,  too,  found  pleasure  in  the 
prospect,  and  fairly  laughed  as  I  saluted  him. 

"It  is  worth  while  to  see  the  sun,"  he  said  cheerfully. 
"I  am  sorry  I  did  not  throw  that  beggar  overboard 
three  days  ago."  I  looked  for  the  strangers  of  the 
night  before,  but  the  decks  were  empty  and  there  was 
no  sign  of  them  aboard. 

"Where  is  the  boat?"  I  asked. 

"It  is  gone,"  the  captain  answered.  "They  went 
away  at  dawn  to  carry  the  dispatches  to  the  port  and 
make  ready  for  our  coming."  I  scanned  the  shore 
for  signs  of  human  habitation. 

"Where  is  the  port?"  I  said  finally.  He  pointed  to 
the  north. 

"Yonder  it  is;  over  that  low  point."  But  it  might 
as  well  have  been  hidden  altogether  so  far  as  the  com 
fort  to  be  derived  from  it  was  concerned,  for,  to  the 
untrained  eye,  the  place  that  was  the  town  was  but  a 
darker  and  distincter  spot  of  color  against  the  back 
ground  of  the  hills. 

It  was  past  noon  when  we  made  our  landing  and  let 
the  anchor  creak  down  into  the  sea.  The  pope  and  I 
watched  the  process  from  the  deck  and  together  took 
tale  of  the  strange  view  ashore.  Our  eyes  went  with 
curious  questioning  over  the  great  palisade  and  along 
the  long,  low,  fort-like  buildings  of  the  post.  But  I 


66  The  Way  of  the  North 

could  see  that  the  pope's  interest  was  not  with  these, 
and  that  he  turned  from  them  always  to  the  irregular 
fringe  of  hovels  outside  of  the  great  fence,  which  evi 
dently  served  as  homes  to  the  natives  of  the  place. 

"A  new  land  and  a  new  life,"  he  said  musingly. 
"Fedor,  I  almost  envy  you  in  being  young." 

"Why  so?"  I  answered.  "Age  is  altogether  a  ques 
tion  of  the  heart.  What  matters  it  so  long  as  that  is 
young?" 

"True,"  he  said  dreamily,  "true,  and  in  some  ways 
I  have  tried.  But — while  we  all  agree  that  the  heart 
must  be  kept  young — when  it  comes  to  the  practice, 
who  of  us  knows  how?"  I  found  a  sudden  pleasure 
in  finding  him  thus  melancholy,  in  the  hope  that  his 
delusion  might  be  passing  and  that  the  break  would 
prove  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

"The  work  can  have  no  soul  without  the  uplift,"  I 
began  softly,  but  he  broke  in  upon  my  word. 

"It  is  not  that,"  he  said  impatiently.  "I  have  not 
lost  the  zeal.  I  am  jealous,  simply,  that  I  have  not 
your  strength.  Think  of  this  great  field  and  what 
could  be  done  in  it  if  I  were  young  as  you.  Look  at  this 
one  spot  alone,"  and  lifting  his  arm  he  let  it  swing 
round  the  whole  circle  of  the  shore.  "Is  it  not  enough 
to  make  a  man  sigh  for  strength?" 

And  truly,  if  I  had  been  a  soul  hunter,  in  summing 
up  that  prospect  I  should  have  felt  the  sportsman's 
thrill.  Nearly  three  hundred  native  canoes  lay  be 
tween  us  and  the  beach,  and  their  Indian  owners  were 
gathered  in  picturesque  groups  about  the  fires  along 
the  shore.  Their  number  was  so  great  that  I  knew  the 
old  man  felt  like  a  hunter  who  has  flushed  a  royal  covey 
and  yet  has  but  a  single  gun. 


The  Way  of  the  North  67 

"You  will  not  need  to  look  farther,"  I  said,  deter 
mined  to  make  a  point  somewhere.  "There  are  enough 
heathen  here  for  you  to  practise  on  all  the  remaining 
years  of  your  life."  He  shook  his  head  soberly. 

"My  work  is  not  here,"  he  said;  "these  souls  are 
already  within  the  circle  of  light,  and  I  was  called  to  go 
out  to  those  who  have  not  yet  known  God." 

We  stood  and  looked  till  the  boats  were  ready  to  take 
us  ashore.  Then  I  thought  to  look  for  Anna  Gregor- 
ovna  and  see  that  she  came  safely  to  the  land.  She 
was  still  below,  and  I  sent  a  man  to  tell  her  of  the  going. 
Presently  she  came  on  deck,  but  paused  before  she 
reached  us  and  stood  a  space  apart.  Her  eyes  went  to 
the  shore  and  the  huddled  buildings  of  the  post,  and 
the  colour  rose  in  her  cheeks  as  she  thought  of  what  the 
prospect  meant  to  her.  I  went  to  where  she  stood 
and  spoke  a  word  of  sympathy. 

"This  is  the  end  of  the  sea-faring,"  I  said.  "I  hope 
it  is  the  beginning  of  happier  days  for  you."  She  did 
not  answer,  and  half  turned  away,  and  for  the  moment 
I  thought  she  would  leave  me  where  I  stood.  Then 
she  thought  better  of  it  and  turned  to  me  with  pleading 
eyes. 

"What  is  it?"  I  said.  "Why  will  you  not  speak  to 
me?" 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  she  said  tremulously.  "Before 
we  go,  will  you  not  give  me  back  my  cross  ?" 

The  blood  went  hotly  up  to  my  cheeks  and  I  found 
no  word  to  say.  It  had  not  seriously  stayed  with  me 
that  she  would  persist  in  her  suspicions  of  me  as  the 
thief,  and  now  that  it  was  so,  I  was  embarrassed  how  to 
return  the  thing  without  fixing  her  finally  in  her  belief. 
I  had  had  no  thought  in  its  retrieving  but  the  cross 


68  The  Way  of  the  North 

should  be  restored,  but  now  the  impulse  was  strong  to 
make  denial  and  choose  another  time  for  the  return. 

I  have  ever  found  it  that,  in  the  end,  the  blunt  truth 
wins,  however  much  it  seems  to  lack  of  potence  at  the 
time  when  it  is  told ;  and  I  say  this  too  in  the  face  of  the 
disadvantage  that  has  come  to  me  in  the  matter  of  the 
killing  of  the  Chuckchi.  If  I  had  chosen  to  lie  about 
that,  I  might  still  have  been  at  Okhotsk. 

The  temptation,  however,  passed  for  me  in  a  moment. 
I  cursed  myself  inwardly  for  a  fool  and  settled  in  my 
mind  that,  come  what  would,  I  would  act  now  and 
have  the  matter  over  with.  Unbuttoning  my  coat  I 
drew  out  the  cross  and,  without  a  word  of  palliation  or 
excuse,  placed  it  in  her  hand. 

She  took  it  mechanically  and  stood  looking  blankly 
from  it  to  me  with  a  surprise  that  was  closely  allied  to 
bewilderment.  Then  as  the  bitter  force  of  the  thing 
swept  over  her,  her  look  changed  to  one  of  trouble,  and, 
turning  away  from  me,  she  leaned  her  head  against 
the  shroud  and  bent  so  that  I  could  not  see  her  face. 
The  hand  that  held  the  cross  dropped  lightly  to  her 
side  and  the  jewel  slid  unnoticed  to  the  deck.  Her 
shoulders  drew  forward  in  her  struggle  for  self-control 
and  I  could  see  that  she  was  crying  softly  to  herself. 

"Then  it  was  you,  after  all,  who  took  it,"  she  said 
brokenly.  "Oh,  why  did  you  give  it  back?"  I 
stooped  and  lifted  the  cross  again  and  held  it  out  to 
her. 

"Can  you  not  understand,"  I  said,  "that  if  my 
hands  had  not  been  clean  in  the  matter,  I  should  not 
have  brought  it  back  to  you?"  And  then  I  told  her 
all  the  truth  about  the  sail-makers  and  how,  later,  the 
thing  had  been  regained.  She  heard  me  through  in 


The  Way  of  the  North  69 

silence  and  did  not  raise  her  head ;  but  when  I  had  done, 
and  she  had  taken  time  sufficient  to  dry  up  her  tears, 
she  faced  me  bravely  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  will  take  it  now,"  she  said,  "and  I  will  tell  you  I 
am  very  glad.  Not  alone  for  the  cross,"  she  added 
softly,  "though  I  should  have  missed  it  more  than  I 
should  like  to  think.  But  the  great  comfort  comes 
in  the  thought  that  I  need  not  go  out  from  this  dreadful 
place  feeling  that  in  any  single  thing  you  have  been 
unkind." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  passage  from  ship  to  shore  was  short  and  un 
eventful.  We  threaded  our  way  carefully  among  the 
maze  of  boats,  and  the  tide  being  high,  passed  easily 
through  the  channel  that  wound  like  a  tortuous  snake 
between  the  banks  of  mud,  and  so  came  to  an  easy 
landing  on  dry  ground.  We  were  the  first  to  disembark 
and  all  the  population  of  the  post  was  there  to  welcome 
us.  The  larger  part  were  natives,  hunters,  and  hangers- 
on  of  the  fort,  and  as  I  looked  them  over  the  opinion 
grew  that  they  were  by  far  the  most  repulsive  creatures 
I  had  ever  seen.  Assuredly,  if  they  were  as  bad  inside 
as  out,  they  had  strong  need  of  the  pope  and  all  his 
kind  to  bring  them  even  to  a  scant  salvation.  They 
stood  respectfully  in  the  background  and  yielded  the 
post  of  vantage  to  those  of  our  own  colour  whom  fate 
had  thrown  as  flotsam  on  this  shore. 

Anna  Gregorovna  kept  close  beside  me  as  we  walked, 
and  I  could  see  that  she  challenged  every  new  face  in 
momentary  expectation  of  discovering  her  lover  in  the 
crowd.  The  boat  being  cleared,  we  followed  the  sailor 
who  brought  out  our  goods,  and  began  a  progress  to 
ward  the  higher  ground.  As  we  neared  the  group 
of  spectators,  they  parted  so  as  to  let  us  pass  through, 
and  a  tall  man  with  black  mustachios  and  a  suspicion 
of  a  swagger  in  his  air  stepped  out  from  among  them 
and  saluted  me  in  the  military  fashion. 

"You  are  Fedor  Kirilovitch  Delarof  ?"  he  said  with 
70 


The  Way  of  the  North  71 

an  air  of  importance.  When  I  had  assented,  he  con 
tinued:  "The  commander,  Alexander  Andreievitch 
Baranof  is  busy  with  his  dispatches  and  could  not  come. 
I  am  charged  by  him  to  show  you  to  the  quarters  he  has 
assigned  to  you  in  the  post.  Joassaf  Petrovitch  is  to 
remain  with  you  for  the  present."  I  was  surprised  at 
the  attention,  for  I  had  not  thought  of  myself  as  coming 
as  an  honoured  guest. 

"And  the  lady  here,"  I  said,  "what  disposition  has 
been  made  for  her?"  He  looked  at  her  curiously  and 
bowed  with  full  respect;  but  I  could  see  from  his  manner 
she  was  not  within  the  order  he  had  brought. 

"She  is  Anna  Marya,  the  daughter  of  Gregor  Ivano- 
vitch  Garin,  who  died  on  the  passage  across  the  sea. 
She  is  the  betrothed  of  the  Lieutenant  Alexei  Yegoro- 
vitch  Sookin,  and  if  no  disposition  has  been  made  for 
her,  it  would  be  well  to  send  for  him."  At  the  mention 
of  the  lieutenant's  name  the  man  looked  up  quickly  at 
the  girl  with  a  new  interest,  and  bowed  again. 

"Though  I  have  had  no  instruction  in  the  matter," 
he  said  courteously,  "I  shall  be  glad  to  serve  Anna 
Gregorovna  as  I  can.  The  Lieutenant  Sookin  is  in 
disposed  and  cannot  leave  his  room.  I  had  best  speak 
to  Marfa  Ekaterina  Baranof."  He  turned  to  carry  out 
his  purpose,  but  Anna  Gregorovna  called  him  back. 
At  the  mention  of  her  lover's  sickness  she  had  started 
forward  and  now  only  waited  till  he  had  stopped  speak 
ing  to  question  him  for  herself. 

"Wait,"  she  said  breathlessly,  "Alexei  Yegorovitch — 
is  he  very  ill  ?  "  The  man  stopped  and  half  turned  back 
to  her,  but  before  he  spoke  he  looked  at  me  and  his  eye 
drew  down  in  what,  if  I  had*  known  him  better,  I  should 
have  thought  to  be  a  wink. 


72  The  Way  of  the  North 

"  No,  panna,"  he  said  cheerily.  "  He  has  had  trouble 
with  his  throat  from  the  winter  cold,  but  he  will  soon 
be  out  again."  He  did  not  wait  for  her  to  say  more, 
but  added:  "If  you  will  follow  me,  I  will  take  you  to 
Marfa  Alexandrovna,"  and  walked  on. 

We  had  almost  passed  the  spectators,  when  I  saw 
coming  toward  us  a  young  girl  of  perhaps  eighteen 
years  of  age.  She  was  a  pretty  creature  with  brown 
hair  and  eyes,  and  a  skin  of  pure  olive  sufficiently  trans 
parent  to  let  the  colour  through  it  at  her  cheeks.  But 
a  certain  heaviness  of  figure  and  the  high  angle  of  tho 
facial  bones  told  me  at  once  that  she  was  a  half-breed, 
or  Creole  as  they  are  wrongly  called  in  this  land,  and 
had  Indian  blood  in  her  veins. 

She  led  by  the  hand  a  little  boy  of  perhaps  seven  or 
eight  years,  who  jumped  up  and  down  with  impatience, 
yet  did  not  venture  to  let  go  her  grasp.  Our  guide 
perceived  her  as  I  did,  and  stopping  us  with  a 
gesture,  waited  her  approach.  She  saw  us  and 
turned  her  steps  to  where  we  stood.  Pausing  in  front 
of  us,  she  looked  inquiringly  at  our  conductor  and 
waited  for  him  to  speak,  but  before  he  could  do  so 
her  attention  was  taken  from  him  by  the  child  who 
still  danced  up  and  down  and  pulled  impatiently  at 
her  gown. 

"  Do  not  stop,  Marfa,"  he  said  pleadingly.  "  We 
shall  be  late,  and  I  want  to  be  there  when  they  come/' 
The  girl  did  not  look  down  at  him,  but  put  her  arm 
about  his  shoulders  and  drew  him  back  against  her 
side. 

"  Hush,  Paul,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  they  are 
here  now." 

"  Where   are  they  now  ?  "   he  insisted  in  his  high, 


The  Way  of  the  North  73 

clear  speech.  "I  do  not  hear  them."  She  gave  herself 
up  to  the  interruption  and  bent  above  him  soothingly. 

"They  are  here — in  front  of  you.  There  are  three 
of  them,  a  young  man,  a  woman  and  a  priest.  Now 
listen  a  moment  and  you  will  hear  them  speak."  The 
child  did  not  look  at  us  but  stood  silent,  with  his  head 
tilted  slightly  back  and  one  foot  moving  flutteringly 
forward  as  if  he  were  feeling  of  the  ground.  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  straightened  herself  awkwardly  and  then 
looked  at  us  with  the  signs  of  some  confusion  showing 
in  her  face. 

"I  trust  you  will  forgive  my  brother's  forwardness," 
she  said  simply.  "He  is  blind."  Then  turning  to 
our  guide,  she  said  with  dignity : 

"\Yhat  is  it,  Peter?  Is  there  something  for  me  to 
do?" 

"There  is  a  lady  here,"  he  answered,  "concerning 
whose  disposition  I  have  not  been  charged."  The 
Creole  looked  at  once  at  Anna  Gregorovna  with  genuine 
interest,  but  it  was  patent  that  she  had  had  no  previous 
knowledge  of  her  coming.  Anna  Gregorovna,  for  her 
part,  shrank  nervously  from  the  scrutiny,  and  I  spoke 
to  her  for  comfort. 

"The  captain  has  taken  his  revenge,"  I  said  under 
my  breath;  "he  has  not  announced  you  to  the  com 
mander."  She  looked  up  at  me  suddenly  and  then 
back  at  the  other  woman  without  a  word ;  but  the  Creole 
recovered  from  her  astonishment  and  came  to  where 
she  stood. 

"There  has  been  some  mistake,"  she  said  pleasantly. 
"  I  was  told  there  were  no  women  aboard  except  among 
the  settlers."  Anna  Gregorovria's  pale  face  grew  paler 
and  she  looked  swiftly  again  at  me,  but  before  I  could 


74  The  Way  of  the  North 

think  what  to  say,  she  recovered  herself  and  made  her 
own  answer. 

"I  am  of  the  settlers,"  she  said  bitterly.  "There 
has  been  no  mistake."  Marfa  Alexandrovna  looked 
at  her  in  astonishment,  and  I  could  see  that  she  was 
puzzled  by  the  fact. 

"But  you  are  not  a  peasant,"  she  said  at  once. 

"Anna  Gregorovna's  father,"  I  interposed,  "was 
the  physician  of  the  party  and  a  man  of  rank.  It  was 
a  chance  that  they  were  rated  with  the  rest."  Marfa 
Alexandrovna's  face  cleared  and  she  impulsively  put 
out  her  hands. 

"I  knew  it  was  a  mistake,"  she  said  smilingly,  "and 
I  am  glad  that  you  have  come.  There  have  been 
scarcely  enough  girls  in  Archangelsk  for  company." 
They  were  the  first  kind  words  that  had  come  to  Anna 
Gregorovna  in  the  new  land,  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  The  two  girls  clasped  hands  and  stood  for  a 
moment  in  silence,  while  the  blind  boy,  drawn  nearer 
by  the  greeting,  put  out  his  hand  and  timidly  touched 
Anna  Gregorovna  here  and  there  about  her  gown. 
The  guide,  who  till  this  moment  had  been  silent,  now 
added  his  word  to  the  general  explanation. 

"Marfa  Alexandrovna  should  also  know,"  he  said 
deferentially,  "that  this  lady  is  the  betrothed  of  the 
Lieutenant  Sookin."  His  tone  was  grave  and  suffi 
ciently  weighted  with  respect,  but  there  was  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye  which  belied  his  full  sincerity.  If  he  had 
thought  to  startle  her  by  the  information  he  gave,  his 
ruse  met  with  a  measure  of  success.  Marfa  Alex 
androvna  stopped  short  in  her  greetings  and  drew  back 
so  she  could  look  more  clearly  into  Anna  Gregorovna's 
eyes. 


The  Way  of  the  North  75 

"Not  Alexei?"  she  cried,  and  waited  breathless  for 
the  answer.  She  found  it  without  words  in  Anna 
Gregorovna's  face  and,  controlling  herself  with  an 
effort,  spoke  again  with  a  return  of  her  self-contained 
manner. 

"Forgive  me,"  she  said  with  some  confusion.  "What 
Peter  Nicolaievitch  tells  me  is  astonishing  news.  We 
have  seen  much  of  Alexei  Yegorovitch  in  the  past 
three  years  and  he  had  never  told  us  of  your  coming." 

"He  does  not  know  of  it  himself,"  said  Anna  Gregor- 
ovna  eagerly.  "It  was  done  suddenly,  without  time 
for  tidings.  I  came  because  my  father  came  and  I 
could  not  let  him  know."  Marfa  Alexandrovna  was 
now  fully  recovered  in  her  poise,  and,  when  she  spoke 
again,  was  wholly  at  her  ease. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "at  any  rate  I  should  not  keep 
you  standing  here.  You  shall  come  with  me  and  I  will 
see  that  word  is  sent  to  the  lieutenant."  She  took 
Anna  Gregorovna  again  by  the  hand  and  would  have 
led  her  away,  but  the  child  cried  out  against  return 
and  raised  his  voice  in  lamentation. 

"Do  not  hold  us  back,"  said  his  sister,  coaxingly. 
"The  lady  is  coming  with  us  and  you  shall  come  again 
when  she  is  placed." 

"But  the  man  who  spoke —  "  said  the  child  with 
urgency.  "If  I  am  not  presented  I  shall  not  know 
him  when  I  meet  him  again."  The  girl  looked  at  me 
pleadingly. 

"Will  you  humour  him?  It  is  the  shortest  way."  I 
came  forward  to  where  he  stood. 

"If  you  will  tell  me  your  name "  said  the  girl, 

blushing. 

"  I  am  called  Fedor  Kirilovitch  Delarof ,"  I  answered. 


7 6  The  Way  of  the  North 

"You  hear,  Paul,"  she  continued.  "Give  Fedor 
Kirilovitch  your  hand."  The  child  extended  both 
hands  and  I  took  them  in  my  own.  He  did  not  grasp 
them  as  another  person  would  have  done,  but  held  fast 
with  one  hand  while  with  the  other  he  went  fluttering 
over  every  inch  of  me  within  reach  with  a  touch  as 
light  and  delicate  as  a  breath  of  wind.  He  gauged  the 
length  of  my  fingers  and  the  thickness  of  the  palms, 
and  ended  by  gravely  testing  the  cloth  of  my  sleeve 
between  his  nimble  ringer  and  thumb. 

"There,  I  shall  know  you  now,"  he  said  with  a  sigh 
of  satisfaction.  "Your  hands  are  larger  than  Marfa's. 
but  they  are  just  as  soft."  Then  turning  to  his  sister, 
he  held  out  his  hand. 

"I  am  ready  to  go  now,"  he  said  in  his  impersonal 
voice;  and  the  two  women,  leading  him  between  them, 
left  us  and  went  up  toward  the  great  entrance  to  the 
stockade. 

We  followed  at  a  respectful  distance,  and,  once  inside 
the  fence,  turned  from  the  great  two-story  structure 
standing  at  the  front  in  which  Baranof  was  housed, 
and  skirted  away  toward  a  lower  building  at  the  right- 
hand  angle  which  served  as  quarters  for  the  men. 

As  we  passed  the  mansion,  two  men  came  out  of  tke 
doorway  of  it,  and,  pausing,  stood  in  excited  colloquy 
upon  the  steps.  One  of  them  was  of  good  height  and 
had  the  air  of  a  person  accustomed  to  command.  The 
other  was  small  and  square  in  build,  and  nervous  and 
excitable  in  gesture  and  speech.  He  was  without  a  hat 
and  the  top  of  his  head  was  bald  above  a  fringe  of  sandy 
hair.  The  two  were  in  heated  dispute  and  gesticu 
lated  violently  as  they  talked.  The  smaller  man  was 
evidently  the  aggressor.  He  pushed  his  opponent 


The  Way  of  the  North  77 

hard  and  emphasized  his  charge  by  striking  one  hand 
with  a  sheaf  of  folded  papers  that  he  held  in  the  other. 
Both  saw  us  and  stopped  silently  to  look.  Then  the 
smaller  man  came  down  the  steps  and  beckoned  us  to 
come  to  him. 

"The  commander,"  said  Peter  Nicolaievitch  between 
his  teeth,  and  took  off  his  hat.  I  looked  curiously 
at  the  man,  for  the  short  figure  and  sallow  face  were 
scarcely  what  I  had  expected  to  find  in  Baranof.  But 
his  eyes  were  as  keen  and  masterful  as  a  hawk's,  and 
there  was  an  abrupt  directness  in  his  way  that  spoke  a 
shrewd  ability  in  dominating  men. 

"You  are  Fedor  Kirilovitch  Delarof,"  he  said  with 
as  much  assurance  as  if  he  had  known  me  for  years. 
"I  have  letters  here  from  Okhotsk  concerning  you." 
His  voice  was  heavy  and  large  for  a  man  of  his  size. 
He  spoke  abruptly,  though  there  was  no  unpleasant 
quality  of  tone. 

The  blood  came  painfully  up  into  my  face,  for  I  had 
small  doubt  as  to  what  account  of  me  those  letters 
must  contain,  and  the  more  so  that  secretly  I  had 
hugged  the  hope  that  the  governor  would  be  content 
to  let  me  begin  again  in  this  new  place  without  the 
herald  of  his  handicap.  Alexander  Andreievitch 
seemed  not  to  expect  me  to  reply,  for  without  notice  of 
my  embarrassment,  he  went  on: 

"Peter  Nicolaievitch,  here,  will  see  you  settled  in  the 
barracks.  The  priest,  I  suppose,  is  a  legacy  that 
comes  to  me  with  the  settlers.  I  desire  him  not  to  go 
to  the  archimandrite's  house.  He  is  to  stay  with  you 
till  I  can  talk  with  him.  Get  yourselves  settled  and 
come  to  me  about  four  o'clock."  He  nodded  distantly, 
and  without  further  word  turned  again  to  his  adversary 


78  The  Way  of  the  North 

on  the  porch.  Peter  Nicolaievitch  was  evidently  in 
awe  of  him,  for  he  waited  a  full  minute  before  replacing 
his  hat. 

"I  should  say,"  he  chuckled,  "that  you  are  already 
in  favour  and  will  get  on  very  well,  but  Baranof  never 
did  like  a  priest." 

Inside,  the  barracks  consisted  of  a  long,  low-raftered 
room  with  tables  for  our  meals,  and  beyond  this  was 
a  series  of  small  chambers  opening  out  of  it  on  two 
sides.  The  walls  were  of  logs  and  within  had  been 
squared  to  show  an  even  surface;  and  all  this  surface 
had  been  coloured  green.  The  ikon  hung  high  on  the 
wall  that  faced  the  entrance  to  the  room.  There  were 
benches  along  the  tables  and  here  and  there  a  stool. 
In  one  corner  was  the  samovar,  so  crusted  with  white 
that  it  looked  as  if  covered  with  snow.  There  was  no 
attempt  at  decoration  except  that,  in  front  of  the  holy 
picture,  three  coloured  eggs  hung  suspended  from  the 
ceiling  by  slender  strings  and  in  one  of  the  window 
embrasures  some  one  had  set  up  a  bunch  of  dried  grasses 
to  collect  the  dust. 

The  pope  and  I  were  quartered  together,  and  set 
ourselves  to  release  our  things.  But  before  our  guide 
had  left  us,  and  while  he  was  still  giving  us  parting 
advice,  there  came  from  somewhere  in  the  house  a 
call  for  him  by  name. 

"Peter — Peter  Nicolaievitch,  are  you  come  back?" 
It  was  a  man's  voice,  high-pitched  and  youthful,  but 
there  was  a  slowness  about  the  enunciation  of  the 
words  that  made  the  delivery  of  them  seem  an  effort. 
Peter  Nicolaievitch  threw  up  his  head  and  listened,  and 
then  looked  at  us  and  laughed. 

"It  is  the  Lieutenant  Sookin,"  he  said.     "He  cannot 


The  Way  of  the  North  79 

get  out  of  bed  and  I  promised  to  bring  him  the  news." 
Then  raising  his  voice,  he  shouted,  "All  right,  my  boy, 
I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute." 

"Are  there  any  new  men  come  ?" 

"Yes,  two  for  this  place." 

"Good,"  said  the  voice  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction. 
"  Bring  them  in.  I  want  to  see  them."  Peter  Nicolaie- 
vitch  turned  to  us  appealingly. 

"Can  you  take  the  time?"  he  said  with  the  air  of 
one  asking  a  favour.  "The  boy  is  lonely,  shut  up  in 
his  room,  and  a  new  face  is  a  Godsend  in  this  empty 
land."  I  looked  interrogatively  at  the  pope,  but  he 
had  already  laid  aside  the  things  in  his  hands  and 
risen  for  the  going. 

"Very  well,"  I  said.  "We  shall  be  glad  to  meet  the 
Lieutenant  Sookin."  Peter  Nicolaievitch  was  a  man 
easily  moved  by  his  emotions.  He  got  to  his  feet  with 
an  exuberant  look  of  joy. 

"  He  is  a  fine  fellow,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  You  will  like 
him,  if  he  is  only  a  boy."  He  led  us  out  into  the  main 
room  and  so  to  a  chamber  on  the  other  side.  The 
apartment  itself  was  larger  than  ours  and  was  cheerful 
with  the  afternoon  sun  that  shone  in  through  the 
uncurtained  casements  toward  the  west.  It  was  fairly 
bare  of  furniture,  the  chief  fittings  being  the  two 
couches  which  occupied  opposite  corners  of  the  room. 

One  of  these  beds  was  unoccupied,  but  the  tumbled 
covers  showed  that  the  lack  was  only  since  the  morning. 
In  the  other  was  a  young  man  of  perhaps  twenty-two 
or  three.  He  was  slender  and  boyish  in  build  and  was 
propped  up  with  cushions  so  that  he  sat,  rather  than 
reclined,  upon  the  couch.  His  face  was  mobile  and  sen 
sitive,  with  features  refined  almost  to  weakness,  and  he 


8o  The  Way  of  the  North 

had  luminous  black  eyes  that  devoured  so  steadily  the 
objects  they  fixed  themselves  upon  that  one  seemed  to 
look  right  through  them  to  the  soul  beyond. 

He  did  not  move  as  we  came  in  except  to  lift  his  head 
and  nod  in  welcome.  But  even  this  exertion  worried 
him,  for  he  breathed  more  quickly;  and  in  each 
cheek,  with  the  excitement,  there  began  to  burn 
a  hectic  spot. 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  come,"  he  said  in  his  languid 
voice.  Peter  is  company,  but  in  these  three  years  we 
have  told  each  other  most  that  is  in  our  minds."  He 
had  the  rare  gift  of  laughter  that  draws  one  irresistibly 
into  fellowship,  and  when  he  turned  his  head  and  smiled 
on  Peter  Nicolaievitch,  I  found  myself  involuntarily 
smiling  with  him.  As  for  Peter,  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  up  in  deprecation,  and  laughed  outright. 

"But  I'm  through  with  you  now,"  he  shouted. 
"The  Commander  has  you  where  you  can  no  longer 
shirk.  He  sends  you  these  two  men — one  is  a  doctor 
and  the  other  a  priest — and  you  are  to  decide  for  your 
self  which  way  you  wrill  go.  But  that  you  shall  go  one 
way  or  the  other,  he  has  surely  made  up  his  mind  and, 
well  man  or  dead  man,  you  will  have  no  further  need 
of  me."  The  young  man  lay  back  on  his  pillows  and 
half  closed  his  eyes. 

"Well,"  he  said  lazily,  "if  you  should  tell  me  more 
about  them,  I  would  be  better  able  to  make  choice." 

"The  doctor's  name  is  Fedor  Kirilovitch  Delarof, 
and  the  priest  is  called  Joassaf  Petrovitch."  The 
lieutenant  repeated  the  names  softly  to  himself.  "  Joas 
saf  Petrovitch,"  he  went  on,  "is  he  to  take  the  place  of 
the  archimandrite  who  is  dead?" 

"No,"  said  the  pope  humbly,  speaking  for  himself, 


The  Way  of  the  North  81 

"I  am  only  a  priest,  and  not  a  monk.  I  shall  be  sent 
to  one  of  the  outer  posts." 

"Yes,"  said  the  young  man  under  his  breath,  "Bara- 
nof  believes  in  having  the  gospel  seed  so  widely  scattered 
that  the  sower  cannot  easily  come  back.  You  will  prob 
ably  range  wide."  Then  his  thoughts  turned  to  me. 

"I  am  glad,"  he  said,  "that  there  is  to  be  a  doctor  at 
the  post.  Since  the  Malemutes  killed  Sergei  Ivano- 
vitch,  I  have  had  no  medicine  but  brandy  for  this 
trouble  in  my  throat.  I  will  get  you  to  look  me  over 
when  you  have  more  time." 

I  had  no  need  to  look  him  over  to  diagnose  the  case. 
It  took  no  special  skill  to  verify  the  trouble  as  being 
in  the  lungs.  But  I  was  puzzled  to  account  for  the 
absolute  weakness  of  his  present  state.  For  while  the 
terrible  disease  had  surely  set  its  mark  upon  him  it 
was  not  yet  far  advanced,  and  he  still  had  about  him 
the  warmth  of  manhood  and  the  courage  of  life  that 
serves  to  keep  men  young. 

Peter  Nicolaievitch  had  waited  impatiently  the  delay 
of  the  introductions,  and  now  could  hold  back  no  longer 
the  information  he  was  burning  to  impart. 

"But  the  news,  Alexei,"  he  broke  in,  "you  have 
not  heard  the  news!"  The  young  man  scarcely 
changed  his  position  though  his  eyelids  drew  down 
into  a  closer  and  more  quizzical  line. 

"Don't  disturb  me,  Peter,"  he  said  dryly.  "I  am 
making  up  my  mind  about  my  men."  Peter  understood 
his  mood,  for  he  chuckled  to  himself  and  winked  at  us 
as  if  we,  too,  were  in  the  confidence, 

"But  Alexei,"  he  said,  "the  news  belongs  especially 
to  you."  The  lieutenant  yawned  as  if  the  whole 
affair  were  but  a  bore  to  him. 


8z  The  Way  of  the  North 

"Well,"  he  said,  "if  I  must  hear  it,  let  it  go."  But 
Peter  was  in  no  haste  to  spring  his  climax  while  there 
was  amusement  in  delay.  He  scratched  his  head  and 
knitted  his  eyebrows  as  if  weighing  different  matters 
vigorously  in  his  mind. 

"Where  shall  I  begin?"  he  said  as  if  to  himself. 
"Well,  for  one  thing,  there  are  almost  a  hundred 
settlers  in  the  batch." 

"How  many  of  them  are  for  my  company?"  asked 
the  lieutenant. 

"Forty  at  the  least." 

"That  means  forty  devils  more  for  me  to  drill,"  said 
Alexei  Yegorovitch  plaintively,  "and  that  same  drilling 
is  wearing  work.  But  for  all  that,  Peter,  I  am  minded 
to  throw  in  my  lot  with  the  doctor  and  stay  alive." 
Peter  rubbed  his  hands  together  in  appreciation. 

"Hold  on,"  he  said,  "you  are  too  soon.  Wait  till 
you  hear  the  rest."  He  paused  expectantly  for  ques 
tion,  but  the  sick  man  knew  it  was  only  a  matter  of 
time  when  the  whole  secret  would  come  to  him  un- 
courted,  and  would  not  give  him  the  satisfaction  of 
demand.  Peter  was  too  full  of  the  matter  for  long 
waiting,  and  after  a  short  space  of  silence  began  to  lead 
him  on. 

"Who  else  do  you  suppose  was  on  the  ship  ?" 

"Anyone  I  know?" 

"Yes." 

"Man  or  woman?" 

"Woman — someone  you  knew  at  home."  The 
lieutenant  let  his  eyes  go  entirely  shut. 

"How  can  I  tell,"  he  cried  hopelessly.  "There  were 
so  many  of  them!"  But  Peter  kept  him  no  longer  in 
the  dark. 


The  Way  of  the  North  83 

"What  if  it  were  your  betrothed  whom  you  left 
behind  in  Russia?"  he  said  impressively.  Alexei 
Yegorovitch's  eyes  came  wide  open  and  with  an 
effort  he  sat  straight  up  in  bed. 

"Not  Anna  Gregorovna?"  he  said  with  incredulity. 

"Yes,  Anna  Gregorovna,"  said  Peter.  "I  talked 
with  her  myself."  It  had  taken  all  the  lieutenant's 
strength  to  bring  himself  up,  and  almost  immediately  he 
fell  back.  For  some  moments  he  lay  turning  over  in 
his  mind  the  astonishing  bit  of  news,  and  even  Peter 
respected  his  confusion.  Twice  he  looked  up  at  us 
quickly  from  under  his  half-closed  lids  and,  catching 
our  eyes,  as  suddenly  looked  down.  The  spots  of  red 
on  his  cheeks  broadened  and  grew  till  he  was  flushed 
from  neck  to  hair,  and  as  the  full  import  of  the  thing 
came  over  him,  he  laughed  softly  to  himself. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  said  finally. 

"At  the  great  house."  Again  the  lieutenant's  eyes 
opened  on  Peter  Nicolaievitch  with  an  inquiring 
glance. 

"And  the  other "  he  said  with  some  confusion, 

"does  she  know?"  Peter  Nicolaievitch  in  his  delight 
got  up  and  wrung  the  lieutenant's  hand. 

"That  was  the  cream  of  the  whole  thing,"  he  gasped. 
"She  not  only  knows,  but  she  has  taken  the  lady  in 
charge  to  keep  her  till  you  come.  Alexei,  you  would 
have  laughed  yourself  to  see  her  face  when  she  was  told." 
But  now,  at  least  with  the  lieutenant,  the  statement 
did  not  make  for  mirth.  Like  a  sudden  sunset,  the 
colour  faded  from  his  face.  The  excitement  was  too 
much  for  him  and  he  fainted  quietly  away. 

"How  long  has  he  been  like  this?"  I  asked  as  we 
laid  him  back  and  forced  a  stimulant  between  his  lips. 


84  The  Way  of  the  North 

"Oh,  only  since  last  night,"  said  Peter  cheerfully. 
"It  is  only  when  the  bleeding  comes  in  his  throat  that 
he  gives  out.  He  was  the  same  way  before.  In  a 
week  he  will  be  around  as  usual." 

We  fanned  the  patient  and  bathed  his  face,  and 
shortly  the  colour  warmed  a  little  in  his  cheeks.  His 
eyelids  trembled  and  unclosed,  and  he  looked  up 
steadily  into  our  eyes. 

"Peter,"  he  breathed  rather  than  whispered.  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  leaned  above  him  with  all  the  tenderness 
of  a  woman. 

"What  is  it,  my  boy?"  he  said  soothingly.  The 
lieutenant  drew  him  toward  him,  and  the  ghost  of  his  old 
smile  hovered  about  his  lips. 

"Peter,"  he  said  pantingly,  "I  do  not  know — but 
after  all — I  had  better  choose  the  priest!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

As  THE  hour  approached  for  the  interview  with 
Baranof,  I  felt  my  courage  ooze  steadily  away.  Per 
haps  if  there  had  been  more  weight  upon  my  soul  I 
should  have  been  more  composed.  It  is  the  innocent 
and  not  the  guilty  man  who  fears  the  law,  in  that  he  has 
so  much  more  to  lose.  On  the  complaisance  of  the 
Commander  hung  not  only  my  chance  of  livelihood,  but 
also  my  hope  of  ordinary  happiness  in  the  daily  round 
of  life.  My  mind  went  back  with  bitterness  to  the 
governor  of  Okhotsk  and  the  injury  he  had  done  me 
in  setting  Baranof  to  a  false  pre-judgment,  by  crying 
me  here  as  wanton  before  there  could  come  to  me 
again  the  opportunity  of  retrieval  by  force  of  redeeming 
deed.  Commendation  in  good  quarters  has  not  been 
lacking  to  me,  either  for  energy  or  worth,  and  there 
had  been  no  smirch  upon  me  before  this  single  thing. 
But  a  man  may  do  forty  shining  deeds  and  get  no  credit, 
while  as  a  matter  of  course  the  one  scar  on  his  knee  will 
always  be  pointed  out  in  the  judgment  of  the  sureness  of 
his  feet. 

But  face  the  climax  I  must,  and  I  felt  it  would  be 
foolish  not  to  learn  as  much  as  possible  beforehand  of 
the  man  who  was  to  pass  upon  my  fate.  To  this  end 
I  set  myself  to  question  Peter  Nicolaievitch,  choosing 
the  time  when,  having  set  myself  to  rights,  I  was  alone 
with  him  in  the  great  room  outside. 

"Baranof?"   he   said   in   answer  to   my   question. 

85 


86  The  Way  of  the  North 

"  Why,  he  is  like  the  most  of  us,  except  that  he  has  more 
power.  He  is  a  little  hard  if  things  are  not  done  his 
way,  but  there  is  no  particular  blame  in  that.  You  or 
I,  if  we  had  his  grip  on  affairs,  would  expect  them  to 
turn  with  our  hand.  He  is  a  hard  drinker  and  a  good 
fighter  and  shrewd  enough  to  outbargain  a  Yankee 
trader  in  his  sleep.  He  holds  down  these  devils 
of  convicts  here  by  the  sheer  force  of  his  will,  and 
that  is  the  reason  he  stays  here  instead  of  at  his 
home  in  Kadiak.  The  Lebedef  settlement  up  the 
sound  will  bear  watching,  and  he  prefers  to  be  close 
enough  to  do  things  for  himself.  He  is  sixty-four 
years  old,  but  he  likes  a  woman  as  well  as  he  ever 
did,  and  the  young  ones  do  not  always  know  just 
how  to  take  his  jokes.  It  is  a  funny  thing,"  he  con 
tinued  with  a  chuckle,  "but  you  will  find  him  in  the 
one  thing  as  vain  as  a  peacock — that  his  legs  are  so 
well  preserved." 

"But  is  he  just  in  his  judgments?"  I  asked.  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  screwed  up  his  eyes  and  thought  a  moment 
before  answering.  Then  he  nodded  vigorously. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "he  is  just  in  the  main.  But  a 
better  way  to  put  it  would  be  that  he  understands  men 
and  that  they  get  from  him  about  .what  they  deserve. 
You  can't  fool  him  much  about  things — not  at  least 
when  he  is  sober.  But,  man  dear,  when  he  is  drunk 
you  want  to  keep  out  of  his  way.  The  Lord  himself 
couldn't  hold  him  then." 

"How  will  it  be  this  afternoon  ?"  I  asked  with  some 
apprehension.  Peter  laughed  aloud. 

"Why,  man,"  he  said,  "I  believe  you  are  afraid  of 
him  before  you  have  come  under  his  thumb.  He  won't 
hang  you — there  is  too  much  need  of  a  doctor  for  the 


The  Way  of  the  North  87 

post — and  besides  he  never  gets  drunk  these  days  till 
after  dark." 

I  thought  over  these  things  strenuously  while  we  were 
passing  from  the  quarters  to  the  great  house,  and  the 
more  I  considered  the  more  my  equanimity  returned. 
The  Commander,  from  the  picture  I  had  formed  of  him, 
was  not  a  man  to  be  over  feared,  and  it  has  long  been 
my  custom  in  meeting  with  great  personages  to  treat 
them  as  if  they  were  human  and  had  sympathies  like 
my  own.  If  one  attempts  no  pose  but  shows  himself 
exactly  as  he  is,  he  will  at  least  command  respect  for 
his  sincerity. 

So  it  was  with  curiosity,  rather  than  uneasiness,  that 
I  noted  the  detail  of  the  room  which  served  Baranof  as 
an  antechamber,  and  I  felt  that  I  made  my  entry  with 
satisfactory  dignity  and  poise.  The  place  was  full  of 
people  of  different  walks  in  life,  some  evidently  sum 
moned  to  answer  to  a  charge,  some  with  business,  and 
others  come  to  show  respect  or  ask  some  favour  of  the 
Commander.  Baranof  himself  sat  in  a  small  apartment 
opening  off  of  the  main  room,  sufficiently  removed  to 
make  his  conversation  private  when  he  was  so  inclined, 
but  at  all  times  so  placed  that  he  could  see  what  was 
going  on  outside. 

He  saw  me  almost  as  I  came  in,  but  beyond  a  slight 
nod  of  recognition  paid  no  attention  to  me  till  it  was 
my  turn  to  go  up  to  his  desk.  Even  then  he  continued 
to  search  among  his  papers,  and  let  me  stand  in  front 
of  him  for  near  a  minute  before  he  gave  sign  that  he 
knew  that  I  was  there.  Then  he  motioned  me  silently 
to  a  chair,  and  I  sat  down  and  waited  with  some  im 
patience  for  him  to  speak.  Finally  he  seemed  to  find 
the  document  he  wanted,  for  he  stopped  fumbling 


88  The  Way  of  the  North 

with  the  rest  and  opening  the  paper  ran  it  hurriedly 
through. 

"Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  he  said  without  raising  his 
eyes  from  the  sheet,  "what  is  your  reason  for  coming 
here  from  Okhotsk?"  Sooner  or  later,  I  had  felt  that 
this  inquiry  would  have  to  come,  and  I  was  not  alto 
gether  unprepared.  If  there  had  been  no  sinister 
herald  of  my  coming,  I  should  have  made  a  clean  breast 
of  the  matter  when  asked.  But  knowing  that  Baranof 
had  been  forewarned,  it  was  not  in  me  to  give  colour,  just 
or  unjust,  to  my  case  through  overwagging  of  my  tongue. 

"You  have  had  despatches,"  I  said  with  dignity. 
"My  self-respect  would  scarcely  allow  me  to  say  more 
than  has  been  told  you  there."  Baranofs  keen  eyes 
came  up  suddenly  from  the  paper  to  my  face.  Some 
thing  in  my  answer  had  evidently  startled  him  from 
his  usual  calm. 

"What  do  you  know,"  he  asked  gravely,  tapping  the 
letter  with  his  finger  as  he  spoke,  "of  what  the  governor 
has  said  of  you  in  this  ?  "  I  felt  my  face  redden,  and  I 
hated  myself  and  him  that  I  should  be  confused. 

"Nothing,  of  my  own  knowledge,"  I  said  bitterly, 
"but  I  can  guess  that  from  his  own  standpoint  he  has 
told  the  truth."  Baranof  breathed  contentedly  and 
settled  himself  again  easily  in  his  chair.  When  he 
looked  at  me  again  it  was  with  a  smile  that  shone  in  his 
eyes  and  wrinkled  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"How  much,"  he  said  irrelevantly,  "you  are  like  your 
father  when  he  was  your  age."  It  was  an  observation 
for  which  I  was  not  prepared,  and  I  waited  in  silence 
what  he  would  say  next.  He  came  back  to  the  subject 
without  haste  and  his  voice  took  on  a  softness  that  was 
almost  kind. 


The  Way  of  the  North  89 

"What  if  the  governor  has  been  merciful  instead  of 
just  ?"  he  asked,  still  looking  at  me  with  half-open  eyes. 
"  What  if  the  charge  against  you  is  not  so  bad  after  all  ?  " 
I  could  not  but  believe  that  he  was  playing  with  me  in 
thus  thrusting  his  hands  among  the  strings  of  my  pride, 
but  so  foolish  a  thing  is  hope  that  at  his  words,  involun 
tarily,  I  felt  it  warm  and  kindle  at  my  heart. 

"It  would  be  but  fair,"  I  said  doggedly,  "but  before 
I  give  credit,  I  must  know  more  surely  what  was  said." 
Baranof  laughed  outright. 

"And  the  father's  spirit!"  he  said  joyfully.  "You 
shall  read  it  for  yourself."  He  took  up  the  letter  and 
turned  it  back  so  that  only  a  portion  of  its  contents 
could  be  seen. 

"This  is  the  part  that  concerns  you,"  he  said  as  he  put 
it  into  my  hand.  I  took  the  paper  mechanically  and 
turned  it  so  that  the  light  would  allow  it  to  be  read. 
It  was  a  close  half  sheet  in  the  governor's  precise  hand, 
and  though  I  was  familiar  with  the  script  I  found  it 
slow  and  hard  to  read. 

"As  to  the  young  man  you  asked  for,"  it  said,  "I 
send  him  by  this  ship.  When  I  tell  you  that  he  is 
Kiril  Alexandrovitch's  son,  with  all  the  markings  of 
the  breed,  you  will  want  no  further  pedigree.  He  is 
young  yet,  and  has  a  boy's  faults  of  impatience  and  hot 
head,  which  you  in  time,  no  doubt,  will  find  the  means 
to  cool.  But  he  does  not  know  how  to  lie,  and  when  he 
gives  you  his  hand  it  is  as  certain  as  if  he  wrote  the 
matter  down.  You  can  trust  him  as  yourself,  and 
he  can  tell  you  many  things  I  would  not  care  to  write. 
He  does  not  know  that  he  bears  a  charge,  and  I  trust 
you  to  correct  with  him  the  thought  that  I  was  harsh 
with  him  in  the  manner  of  his  sending.  But  beyond 


go  The  Way  of  the  North 

all  this,  Alexander,  you  will  like  him  in  that  he  is  to-day 
what  you  and  Kiril  and  I  were  when  we  had  the  world 
before  us,  and  the  spell  had  not  fastened  itself  upon  us 
which  still  keeps  us  blindly  anchored  to  this  devil's 
land.  You,  they  tell  me,  have  a  daughter,  and  that 
must  be  much.  But  I  am  a  lonely  man,  and  this  boy 
has  stirred  up  in  me  wistful  memories — so  much  so 
that  I  can  never  look  at  him  without  feeling  that  he  has 
become  to  me  what  my  own  boy  would  have  been  if  he 
had  lived  till  now.  And  so — even  if  he  does  not  appeal 
to  you  for  his  own  sake — but  he  will — be  good  to  him 
for  Kiril's  sake  and  mine." 

I  laid  the  letter  back  again  and  sat  blinking  con 
fusedly  at  Baranof  without  a  word.  The  message  was 
so  different  from  what  I  had  expected  that  for  the  mo 
ment  I  was  fairly  dazed.  It  spoke  with  the  kindly 
spirit  I  had  always  encountered  in  the  governor  before 
my  last  affair;  and  as  I  thought  upon  his  fulsome  praise 
of  me,  his  assumption  that  with  all  my  thirty  years  I 
was  but  yet  a  boy,  and  the  garrulous  tenderness  of  the 
old  man,  my  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  Baranof  watched 
me  with  amusement  in  his  face. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "was  he  over-charitable  or  do  you 
think  he  told  the  truth  ? "  The  words  brought  me 
back  to  myself  with  a  rush,  and  I  flushed  to  the  roots 
of  my  hair. 

"The  governor  is  truly  lavish  with  good  words,"  I 
answered — "so  lavish,  indeed,  that  I  find  them  hard  to 
reconcile  with  the  absence  of  them  when  we  parted 
last." 

"But  he  himself  says  they  were  not  intended." 

"True,"  I  said,  my  anger  rising  as  I  thought  of  the 
henrtsiokness  and  bitter  shame  I  had  been  made  to 


The  Way  of  the  North  91 

feel,  "but  what  sanction  had  he  for  so  flaunting  me 
before  them  all  and  of  pinning  to  me  for  all  time 
such  evil  name?"  Baranof  made  a  gesture  of  impa 
tience. 

"You  are  younger  than  I  thought,"  he  said  coldly, 
"or  perhaps  less  nimble  in  your  wits.  Can  you  not 
see  that  sent  out  as  an  open  servant  of  the  Company 
you  might  be  of  less  service  to  me  than  if  you  came 
discredited  so  that  I  could,  if  I  chose,  frown  upon  your 
living  here  at  all?" 

Then  as  I  struggled  to  collect  my  thoughts  it  came 
to  me  what  it  all  meant,  and  the  reason  for  the  ruse  the 
governor  had  used.  My  heart  was  too  sore  to  turn 
the  matter  with  a  jest,  yet  I  could  but  admit  to  myself, 
as  I  considered  it  in  my  mind,  that,  the  need  of  hiding 
granted,  the  thing  had  been  both  well  and  fairly  done. 
And  then,  too,  it  is  poor  use  to  show  anger  and  push 
blindly  against  a  wall. 

"I  see  it  now,"  I  said  with  such  composure  as  re 
mained  to  me.  "It  was  a  sacrifice  that  good  might 
come.  And,  for  this  time,  for  the  sake  of  the  Company, 
I  am  to  hold  no  wrath."  Baranof  straightened  himself 
quickly  and  answered  before  the  words  had  fairly  left 
my  mouth. 

"  Not  only  this,  but  every  time,"  he  said  with  earnest 
ness.  "It  is  the  first  lesson  that  is  given  you  to  learn. 
In  this  land,  the  Company  is  not  a  business  only,  to 
be  put  on  and  off  at  a  whim.  To  you,  to  me,  and 
every  soul  it  touches,  it  is  God  himself,  and  there  are  no 
other  gods  before  Him.  It  feeds  the  Indians  and 
clothes  and  pays  the  whites,  and  there  is  no  room  under 
it  for  anything  that  does  not  yield  obedience  to  its 
will.  Look  at  the  charter  granting  it,  which  fixes  and 


92  The  Way  of  the  North 

defines  its  powers.  Shelikof,  in  our  begetting,  promised 
for  us  two  things:  we  must  be  both  law  and  gospel  to 
the  people  we  should  find,  and  above  all  things  we 
must  extend  the  territory  of  the  Czar.  For  this  we 
are  allowed  to  keep  the  skins  we  find  as  a  reward — 
but  of  them,  even,  the  Little  Father  gets  his  honest 
share.  The  obligation  to  go  out  and  govern  was  at 
first  a  permission  and  a  request,  but  it  was  a  request 
that  since  by  ukase  has  grown  into  a  command.  The 
pelts  we  take  as  they  come,  and  their  getting  is  the  end. 
But  with  the  lands  it  is  a  different  thing,  for  after  we 
get  them  we  have  to  go  on  holding  them  with  our  lives. 
It  was  for  this  we  were  made  the  only  power.  If 
there  is  to  be  order,  we  must  not  only  be  agents  of  the 
Czar,  but  the  Czar  himself." 

"But  Lastockin  claims —  "  I  began;  Baranof  got 
to  his  feet  with  a  roar  and  came  round  to  my  side  of  the 
desk. 

"Damn  Lastockin,"  he  thundered  in  his  heavy 
voice,  "and  Lebedef  and  every  Russian  of  their  greedy 
breed !  While  we  were  making  the  road,  there  was  no 
man  of  them  that  dared  to  come.  But  now,  because 
we  have  squeezed  out  an  extra  rouble  in  this  place, 
every  cowardly  dog  of  them  is  licking  the  heels  of  the 
Czar  for  permission  to  come  and  scrape  in  our  dirt  for 
the  kopeks  we  have  missed.  They  are  the  curse  of 
the  land — they  and  the  priests,  and  I  am  not  sure  which 
is  the  worse."  He  stood  by  the  door  as  he  spoke,  his 
eyes  roaming  restlessly  over  the  faces  of  the  people 
waiting  in  the  outer  room.  His  glance  rested  on  Joassaf 
Petrovitch  where  he  sat,  and  he  glowered  at  him  with 
ill-concealed  malevolence. 

"What  do  you  know  of  the  priest  who  came  with  you 


The  Way  of  the  North  93 

in  the  ship?"  he  asked,  wheeling  suddenly  back  so  as 
to  address  me.  "Is  he  meddlesome?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  "he  is  absolutely  a  child  when  it 
comes  to  a  question  of  affairs.  Just  now  he  believes 
that  he  has  a  mission  to  go  out  single-handed  and 
wrestle  with  the  heathen  in  the  wilderness.  But  he 
could  stay  here  a  year  and  you  would  never  hear  of 
him  either  in  comment  or  complaint — unless  indeed 
he  got  the  idea  that  you  needed  jogging  in  your  own 
personal  conscience." 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  it,"  he  said  with  a  sigh.  "I 
would  keep  him  in  place  of  the  archimandrite  and  ship 
the  others  back  to  Kadiak."  The  thought  evidently  took 
hold  upon  his  mind,  for  he  stood  silent  for  some  moments 
thinking,  and  idly  tapping  with  his  fingers  on  the  desk. 

"Well,"  he  said  finally  and  quite  as  if  I  had  been 
urging  the  matter  on  him,  "I  will  talk  with  him  and 
see."  He  had  the  air  of  dismissing  the  subject  and  me 
together,  and  I  rose  to  go. 

"They  tell  me  you  are  a  doctor,"  he  continued. 
"That  will  make  it  easy  for  you  to  find  a  place  to  fit 
yourself  into,  in  the  life  of  the  post.  There  is  much 
I  want  to  talk  to  you  about,  but  it  will  take  more  than 
one  day  to  get  it  out.  Go  up  stairs  from  the  hallway, 
and  in  the  room  over  this  you  will  find  the  women  of 
the  house.  They  will  console  you  for  your  troubles 
with  me  and  give  you  a  little  tea.  After  dinner  I  will 
talk  with  you  again." 

I  bowed  and  moved  toward  the  door.  As  I  reached 
it  I  turned  to  bow  again;  but  Baranof  was  back  at  his 
desk  with  his  head  bent  down  over  his  papers,  and  a 
moment  later  I  heard  the  sharp  tap  of  his  pen  that 
called  the  next  man  to  his  side. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  room  above  was  not  so  large  as  the  great  ante 
room,  but  for  that  reason  it  was  more  homelike  and 
pleasant  to  be  in.  It  was  furnished  as  I  had  thought 
to  find  no  house  this  side  of  the  sea.  The  floor  was 
warm  with  a  carpet  of  soft  red,  the  windows  draped 
with  curtains,  and  the  walls  hung  with  paintings  of 
size — some  portraits  and  the  others  counterfeits  of  the 
great  and  interesting  things  of  life.  There  was  an  open 
hearth  in  which  a  fire  blazed  brightly,  and  at  a  near 
distance  from  it  the  women  had  established  themselves 
with  their  tables  and  petty  work. 

There  were  three  of  them  in  the  apartment,  Anna 
Gregorovna,  Marfa  Alexandrovna,  and  a  third,  more 
elderly,  whom  I  had  never  before  seen.  My  entrance 
was  so  lightly  made  that  they  did  not  hear  me  come 
and  I  stopped  a  moment,  just  inside  the  door,  till  they 
should  notice  me.  The  elder  woman  saw  me  first  and 
spoke  softly  to  the  others.  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
raised  her  head  from  her  work  and  recognised  me  at 
once.  She  bowed  pleasantly  and,  getting  to  her  feet, 
waited  expectantly  for  me  to  come  to  her.  But  Anna 
Gregorovna  did  not  wait.  Her  work  slipped  to  her 
feet,  and  with  a  cry  she  came  skimming  across  the 
floor  to  me  with  both  hands  outstretched. 

"Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  she  said  impulsively,  "it  is 
good  to  see  you  again."  I  felt  my  pulse  jump  quickly 
at  her  touch.  Though  it  was  but  a  few  hours  since  we 

94 


The  Way  of  the  North  95 

had  left  the  ship,  the  time  had  been  spent  among 
strangers,  and  it  came  to  me  as  a  real  pleasure  once  more 
to  see  her  face.  She  herself  was  like  a  child  in  her 
enjoyment. 

"I  did  not  know  what  it  was  I  missed,"  she  said 
frankly,  "and  they  have  been  very  kind  to  me  here. 
But  everything  has  been  new  and  strange  around  me, 
and  now  I  know  it  was  you,  because  you  were  the  usual 
thing."  She  kept  my  hand  and  delayed  me  as  I  would 
have  gone  across  to  where  the  others  stood. 

"And  have  you  seen  Alexei?"  she  whispered,  with 
a  sidelong  look  at  them  as  if  she  were  ashamed  that  they 
should  hear.  "Is  he  then  so  very  ill ?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  lowering  my  voice  in  acceptance 
of  the  confidence,  "I  have  seen  him  and  he  is  really  ill. 
When  the  time  serves,  I  will  tell  you  about  it." 

She  stood  aside  and  we  advanced  together  across 
the  room.  Marfa  Alexandrovna  also  offered  me 
her  hand. 

"Will  you  come  and  sit  with  us  while  we  work,  Fedor 
Kirilovitch  ?  "  she  asked  in  her  even  voice.  I  thanked 
her  and  drew  up  the  proffered  chair  from  where  it  stood 
against  the  wall.  As  I  did  so,  I  felt  a  touch  upon  my 
arm  and  turned  to  find  the  blind  boy  at  my  side.  I  had 
not  noticed  him  before,  and  he  must  have  come  in  after 
my  entrance  into  the  room.  As  before,  for  a  moment 
his  fingers  fluttered  over  my  sleeve  and  down  along  my 
hand. 

"You  are  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  he  declared  quietly. 
"  I  saw  you  this  morning  at  the  beach." 

"That  is  true,"  I  said,  "and  I  am  glad  that  you  re 
member  me,  for  we  shall  probably  see  each  other 
many  times  from  this  day  on."  I  took  his  hand  and 


96  The  Way  of  the  North 

would  have  drawn  him  close  to  me,  but  he  pulled  him 
self  away  and  went  across  to  a  settle  that  stood  by  the 
table  where  his  sister  sat. 

"I  will  sit  in  my  own  place,"  he  announced  in  his  high, 
unaccented  voice,  and  climbing  up,  he  settled  himself 
with  his  hands  in  his  lap,  his  head  thrown  back,  and 
his  whole  sense  alert  to  hear  us  when  we  talked. 

There  is  a  sense  of  discomfort  that  comes  with  the 
presence  of  the  unfortunate  who  lack  the  full  round  of 
their  powers — a  discomfort  that  to  me  is  something 
between  awe  and  fear.  I  have  only  pity  for  them  in 
my  heart,  but  there  is  ever  the  uneasiness  in  being  near 
them.  But  the  sight  of  the  little  fellow  sitting  there  in 
that  helpless  way  stirred  me  to  the  routing  of  my 
repugnance,  and  the  expression  of  the  matter  came 
involuntarily  to  my  lips. 

"Poor  fellow!"  I  said  almost  under  my  breath. 
Low  as  the  comment  was,  Marfa  Alexandrovna  heard  me 
and  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

"Sh-h,"  she  said  in  caution,  speaking  almost  entirely 
with  the  lips.  "Do  not  pity  him.  He  has  never 
known  anything  else."  She  smiled  and  shook  her  head 
as  she  spoke  and  I  became  silent,  abashed  at  the 
carelessness  of  my  mistake.  And  further  it  added  little 
to  my  peace  of  mind  to  see  that  the  old  lady  at  her  side 
was  covertly  but  accurately  looking  me  over  from  her 
place.  Marfa  Alexandrovna  saw  my  embarrassment 
and  was  quick  to  help. 

"You  have  not  met  Marya  Andreievna,"  she  said. 
"She  is  my  aunt,  my  father's  sister,  and  has  been  a  full 
mother  to  me  since  my  own  mother  died."  She  put 
out  her  hand  and  patted  the  old  lady's  sleeve  as  she 
spoke,  and  the  latter  took  her  eyes  from  me  long  enough 


The  Way  of  the  North  97 

to  look  at  her  niece  with  quick  understanding  in  her 
glance,  and  then  let  them  come  back  again  to  me. 

"This  is  Fedor,"  the  girl  continued,  "son  of  Kiril 
Stefanovitch  Delarof,  whom  you  will  remember  as  a 
friend."  The  old  lady  bent  down  her  head  to  the  left 
and  looked  at  me  sidewise  like  a  bird.  She  was  small 
and  thin  and  had  round  black  eyes  like  beads. 

"Your  father  was  a  good  man,"  she  said  with 
some  conviction.  "I  danced  with  him  when  I  was  a 
girl."  She  shook  her  head  with  such  vigour  that  her 
curls  stirred  animatedly  on  each  side.  Both  girls 
laughed  at  her  gentle  positiveness,  and  Marfa  Alex- 
androvna  said: 

"  You  will  be  glad  that  he  has  come.  He  is  a  doctor 
and  can  be  of  use  to  you."  The  old  lady  bestowed  on 
me  another  searching  glance. 

"I  have  not  had  a  day's  illness  for  over  fifteen  years," 
she  said  with  prompt  decision,  "and  I  have  about  as 
much  use  for  a  doctor  as  I  would  have  for  last  year's 
snow." 

"  But  what  of  your  sick,  mamochka  ?  " 

"There  have  none  of  them  died,"  said  the  old  lady 
dryly. 

"But  surely  there  are  some  with  whom  he  could  be 
of  use,"  persisted  the  girl  demurely.  "There  is  Potap 
Burikof,  for  instance."  Marya  Andreievna  looked 
from  me  to  her  and  fairly  shook  with  the  vehemence 
of  her  scorn.  I  saw  that,  unwittingly,  I  had  stumbled 
on  a  rival  practitioner  and  that  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
in  a  spirit  of  mischief  was  amusing  herself  by  playing 
on  her  pride  of  professional  skill. 

"Potap  Burikof!"  she  burst  out,  "Potap  Burikof! 
He  has  no  sickness  beyond  the  laziness  that  makes  it 


98  The  Way  of  the  North 

hard  for  his  wife  on  cold  mornings  to  get  him  off  the 
stove!"  Marfa  Alexandrovna  laughed  out  trium 
phantly. 

"That  is  what  I  have  been  telling  you  all  winter," 
she  said,  "but  you  know  you  have  never  been  willing 
to  admit  it  before." 

The  old  lady  glared  at  her  in  speechless  disapproval. 
Then  catching  from  her  eyes  and  the  demure  pucker  of 
her  mouth  that  the  girl  had  wilfully  led  her  into  wrath, 
she  turned  on  her  with  unexpected  energy  and  carried 
the  war  back  into  the  enemy's  ground. 

"  My  poor,  indeed ! "  she  said  with  a  sniff.  "  Why  do 
you  not  put  him  to  try  his  skill  on  something  that 
belongs  to  you  ?  I  have  no  doubt  that  if  you  would  ask 
him,  he  would  put  that  pink  and  white  lieutenant  you 
are  so  fond  of  again  upon  his  feet." 

To  me  it  was  as  if  she  had  put  a  bomb-shell  under 
neath  our  feet.  There  was  an  instant's  pause  in  wrhich 
no  one  spoke.  The  old  lady  felt  that  she  had  gone  too 
far,  and,  looking  timidly  at  her  niece  to  see  how  she 
would  take  it,  held  her  tongue.  Having  talked  with  the 
lieutenant,  I  felt  that  Marfa  Alexandrovna's  position 
was  not  an  easy  one.  I  glanced  at  Anna  Gregorovna 
and  was  pleased  to  see  that  the  thing  came  to  her  with 
no  peculiar  force. 

But  with  Marfa  Alexandrovna  it  was  different.  She 
did  not  raise  her  eyes  from  her  work,  but  her  face  went 
fairly  white  and  as  quickly  blossomed  out  with  red. 
The  colour  flushed  her  ears  and  neck  as  well,  and  held 
there  while  she  struggled  to  regain  her  calm.  But  it  was 
the  suddenness  of  the  attack  that  caught  her  napping, 
and  almost  immediately  she  was  on  her  guard.  Raising 
her  head  she  looked  her  aunt  squarely  in  the  eye, 


The  Way  of  the  North  99 

though  when  she  spoke  there  was  still  a  shadow  of 
unsteadiness  in  her  voice. 

"Fedor  Kirilovitch  is  to  live  at  the  barracks,"  she 
said  quietly,  "and  no  doubt  will  find  time  to  give  the 
lieutenant  the  service  that  he  needs."  Then  turning 
to  Anna  Gregorovna,  she  continued:  "You  have  been 
wishing  to  hear  from  Alexei  Yegorovitch.  It  is 
probable  that  Fedor  Kirilovitch  can  tell  you  what  you 
wish  to  know."  Thus  challenged,  I  looked  at  Anna 
Gregorovna,  who  at  the  words  had  dropped  her  work 
in  her  lap  and  sat  with  lips  parted  in  breathless  ex 
pectation. 

"What  I  have  to  tell  is  neither  good  news  nor  bad," 
I  answered.  "The  Lieutenant  Sookin  has  come  over 
the  hill-top  of  his  trouble  for  this  time,  and  until  there 
comes  a  recurrence  of  the  bleeding  he  will  be  as  well 
as  he  was  before.  There  is  no  need  of  special  skill  for 
his  advantage.  He  is  still  weak,  but  it  is  a  case  for 
woman's  nursing,  rather  than  surgeon's  care."  The 
old  lady  could  not  resist  the  chance  to  take  another 
trick. 

"There,  Marfa,"  she  said,  "that  is  exactly  what  you 
said  yesterday  when  you  came  back." 

"We  did  take  care  of  him,"  spoke  up  the  blind  boy 
suddenly,  "but  he  was  very  sick."  Anna  Gregorovna 
looked  at  Marfa  Alexandrovna  in  some  surprise. 

"Why,  you  would  not  go  with  me  to-day,"  she  said. 

"No,"  returned  the  Creole,  her  Indian  stoicism  of 
blood  standing  her  in  good  stead.  There  being  a 
doctor  come,  I  thought  it  best  to  leave  the  case  to  him." 

"But  now  he  has  spoken,  surely  it  can  be  done." 
Marfa  Alexandrovna's  lip  trembled  and  her  composure 
began  to  give  way. 


too  The  Way  of  the  North 

"You  must  ask  him,  not  me,"  she  said  with  a 
pathetic  attempt  at  a  smile.  But  Anna  Gregorovna 
was  too  absorbed  in  her  desire,  to  note  that  in  the 
manner  of  the  other  girl  there  was  anything  amiss. 
She  got  quickly  to  her  feet  and  came  over  to  me  with 
all  the  excitement  of  a  child. 

"Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  she  said  coaxingly,  "you  have 
done  so  much  for  me  that  I  know  you  will  not  refuse  me 
this."  I  looked  down  on  her  impatience  with  tolerant 
amusement. 

"Joy  seldom  kills,"  I  said  smilingly,  "and  if  you  are 
sure  you  can  be  discreet  in  your  expression,  your  going 
will  help  instead  of  harm." 

"But  when — when?  Will  you  take  me  now?"  I 
looked  at  Marfa  Alexandrovna  and  it  came  to  me  that 
perhaps  it  would  be  a  relief  to  her  and  save  her  the 
embarrassment  of  an  impossible  position,  if  I  should 
undertake  the  thing  as  Anna  Gregorovna  wished. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "if  the  going  will  not  be  a  dis 
courtesy  to  our  hosts."  Marfa  Alexandrovna  rose 
to  her  feet  and  turned  from  us  so  that  we  could  not 
see  her  face. 

"There  is  an  hour  yet  before  dinner,"  she  said  with 
constraint,  "if  you  think  that  will  give  you  time." 
Anna  Gregorovna  waited  no  further  sanction.  Her 
eyes  were  radiant  and  her  feet  scarce  seemed  to  touch 
the  floor.  She  darted  away  like  a  bird,  disappeared 
through  a  further  door,  and  almost  as  instantly  returned 
with  a  wrap  which  she  wound  round  her  shoulders  and 
head. 

"Come,"  she  said,  and  took  me  by  the  hand.  I 
bowed  to  the  other  women  as  we  went.  Marya 
Andreievna  acknowledged  the  attention  and  courtesied 


The  Way  of  the  North  101 

in  kind,  but  Marfa  Alexandrovna  stood  looking  at  the 
window  and  did  not  turn  to  see  us  go. 

The  distance  was  so  short  there  was  small  time  for 
talk,  and  indeed  Anna  Gregorovna  was  so  intent  on 
the  coming  meeting  with  her  lover  that  she  was  beyond 
the  thought  of  speech.  Only,  when  I  looked  down  at 
her,  she  smiled  up  again  with  a  radiance  that  was  a 
measure  of  the  fullness  of  her  content. 

I  have  never  cared  for  women,  and  it  has  been  a  matter 
of  remark  for  me  that  men  should  desire  one  of  them 
rather  than  another;  but  as  I  watched  her  face  and 
thought  of  what  we  had  been  through  together,  and, 
further,  of  the  happiness  it  was  within  her  gift  to  give 
the  man  she  loved,  I  felt  a  sudden  pang  down  in  my 
heart  to  think  that  through  her  such  happiness  would 
never  come  to  me.  I  believe  that  I  could  have  made 
her  happy  if  fate  had  given  me  the  chance. 

"Wait  here,"  I  said,  when  we  reached  the  living-room 
of  the  barracks,  and  she  obediently  sat  down.  Before 
permitting  entry,  I  thought  it  best  to  see  the  sick  man 
and  prepare  him  for  the  coming.  I  had  no  liking  for 
the  report  that  my  first  patient  at  the  post  died  promptly, 
even  of  joy,  under  my  hand.  Yet  as  I  went  in  to  this 
laggard  lover,  I  felt  a  surly  resentment  stirring  at  my 
heart. 

A  man  may  change  his  mind  about  a  woman  and 
have  none  the  less  of  my  esteem,  for  there  is  no  mystery 
deeper  and  more  unfathomable  than  the  mystery  of 
choice.  But  when  a  man  has  given  his  hand  in  promise, 
it  is  a  wrong  and  unmanly  thing  to  draw  it  back,  or 
even  to  press  lightly,  while  the  lady  still  gives  up  to  him 
the  full  measure  of  her  grasp.  So  it  was  a  breeder  of 
constraint  in  me  that  I  should  be  called  upon  to  lead  the 


102  The  Way  of  the  North 

woman  deeper  in  and  put  the  offending  lover  where  he 
could  further  play  the  traitor  to  her  trust. 

I  found  him  better  for  the  afternoon's  rest.  He 
was  sitting  up  in  bed  with  the  table  drawn  close  to  him 
so  that  he  could  the  more  easily  reach  his  bottle  and 
glass,  and  on  the  coverlid  in  front  of  him  were  spread, 
face  up,  the  cards  with  which  he  had  been  playing 
some  contest  with  himself. 

"Well  met,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  he  called  out  gaily 
as  I  came  in.  "I  have  been  playing  against  myself  for 
the  vodka  and  have  wron  so  often  my  head  is  like  a 
balloon.  Sit  down,  man,  and  I  will  beat  you  at  any 
thing  you  say."  I  came  to  him  and,  taking  his  wrist, 
felt  carefully  for  his  pulse.  It  was  fairly  regular, 
considering  his  weakened  state,  and  I  knew  it  could 
do  him  no  harm  to  see  the  girl. 

"I  have  brought  you  a  visitor,"  I  said  with  a  smile. 
"That  is  if  you  are  well  enough  to  stand  the  strain 
of  her  visit."  His  eyes  came  up  steadily  to  mine, 
and  rested  there,  but  I  felt  his  pulse  run  quicker 
under  my  hand. 

"Not  Marfa?"  he  suggested  wistfully,  his  lips  almost 
parted  into  a  smile. 

"No,  by  God!"  I  answered  sharply.  "It  is  Anna 
Gregorovna,  your  betrothed."  His  eyes  dropped  and 
he  remained  silent,  picking  nervously  at  the  coverlid 
while  he  thought  the  matter  out. 

"Yes,  that  is  so,"  he  said  simply. 

"Well,"  I  said  after  a  pause,  "shall  I  bring  her  in?" 

"Wait  a  moment,"  he  pleaded,  "I  want  to  talk  to 
you.  Has  Marfa  told  her?"  By  all  the  rules  I 
should  have  hardened  my  heart  against  him  and  given 
no  sympathy  where  so  little  was  deserved.  But  the 


The  Way  of  the  North  103 

assumption  that  I  knew  the  facts  and  agreed  with 
him  upon  them,  together  with  his  frank  appeal  to  my 
judgment  and  willingness  to  reserve  disapprobation, 
fairly  took  my  breath  away,  and  almost  before  I  knew 
it,  drew  me  to  answer  him  in  accordance  with  his 
desire. 

"No,"  I  said,  "as  far  as  I  have  seen,  she  has  told 
nothing." 

"Thank  God,"  he  said,  "that  makes  it  easier." 
Then  after  a  moment's  silence,  "Fedor  Kirilovitch,  you 
are  a  man  of  the  world.  What  would  you  do  in  a  case 
like  this?" 

"It  depends  entirely  upon  you,"  I  answered.  "If 
the  thing  has  passed  for  you,  tell  her  so  like  a  man." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  do  that,"  he  said  with  a  shiver. 
"Just  think  how  far  she  has  come!" 

"Well,  then,"  I  said  rather  grimly,  "as  a  gentleman, 
there  is  only  one  thing  you  can  do.  Drop  the  other 
one  completely  and  keep  your  word  with  this  one  to  the 
last  amen."  His  face  flushed  with  a  sudden  enthusiasm 
of  determination. 

"I'll  do  it,"  he  said  eagerly.  "You  will  see.  She 
shall  never  know."  Then  as  suddenly  his  face  fell  and 
he  sat  silent,  looking  out  into  the  room  beyond  me  with 
vacant  eyes. 

"And  Marfa?"  he  said  softly,  and  there  was  a 
tenderness  in  his  voice  I  had  not  caught  before.  "Poor 
Marfa!" 

"Be  decent,  man,"  I  growled,  "if  you  are  really  going 
to  give  her  up.  Besides,  she  is  a  Creole,  and  you  could 
not  legally  marry  her  anyway,  under  the  law." 

"It  would  be  legal  here,"  he  said  absently,  "and 
for  that  matter  I  do  not  care  much  anyway."  I  felt 


104  The  Way  of  the  North 

my  anger  rising  at  his  vacillation  and  brought  him  up 
with  a  sharp  turn. 

"Well,  shall  I  bring  this  one  in  now?"  He  caught 
feebly  at  any  straw  that  promised  him  delay. 

"Wait  until  I  get  a  drink  of  this,"  he  said,  and 
reached  hastily  for  his  glass,  but  before  he  could  pour 
the  liquor  out  there  was  a  sound  of  knocking  at  the 
door.  Alexei  Yegorovitch  paused  with  the  bottle  in 
his  hand,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  spot  from  which  the 
knocking  came.  The  door  opened  slowly  and  the 
question  solved  itself  with  the  appearance  of  Anna 
Gregorovna  in  the  doorway.  She  had  awaited  the 
expected  summons  till  her  patience  had  vanished  and 
then  without  hesitation  had  cut  the  Gordian  knot. 
The  lieutenant  quailed  visibly  and  set  the  glass  swiftly 
back  upon  the  table. 

"Do  not  go,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "It  will  be  easier 
with  another  here.  I  will  do  it.  You  will  see,1  he 
added  in  a  whisper.  I  got  to  my  feet  with  anger  and 
distrust  struggling  madly  together  in  my  heart,  and 
looked  unsteadily  at  Anna  Gregorovna.  For  full  a 
moment  she  stood  motionless  in  the  doorway,  and  there 
was  that  of  love  and  the  glory  of  happiness  in  her  eyes 
that  any  man  might  have  been  glad  to  see.  Then  she 
gave  a  little  cry  and  came  with  a  rush  across  the  room. 

"You  brute!"  I  said  under  my  breath. 

"I  know  it,"  he  assented  meekly,  "but  it  doesn't 
help  the  matter  now."  He  let  himself  back  against 
the  cushions  as  if  his  weakness  was  too  great  to  allow 
of  other  pose,  but  his  face  turned  toward  her  with  a  light 
that  was  almost  genuine,  and,  as  she  bent  above  him, 
his  arm  went  as  of  right  about  her  shoulders  and  he  drew 
her  down. 


The  'Way  of  the  North  105 

"My  darling —  '  he  said  brokenly,  and  held  her 
close. 

My  breath  went  out  of  my  throat  like  a  blast  of 
wind,  in  witness  of  my  disgust  at  his  dissimulation.  I 
knew  that  if  I  stayed  longer  I  should  strike  him  and 
spoil  the  pretty  plot  we  had  devised.  So  I  got  quickly 
to  my  feet,  and  muttering  excuses  which  were  wasted, 
for  they  neither  saw  nor  heard  me,  I  went  hurriedly 
away. 

In  the  outer  room  I  found  the  pope  with  his  arms  on 
the  table  and  his  face  drawn  down,  the  picture  of  des 
pair.  He  looked  up  as  I  came  in  and  his  expression 
changed  to  one  of  deep  reproach. 

"Fedor,"  he  said,  "why  did  you  tell  the  Commander 
that  I  was  an  honest  man?"  In  other  seasons,  the 
question  would  have  stirred  me  to  a  smile,  but  I  was 
too  overwrought  to  find  the  humour  in  it  now. 

"Do  not  be  a  fool,"  I  said  harshly.  "What  would 
you  have  me  tell  him  that  you  were?" 

"That  which  would  at  least  have  left  me  where  I 
was  in  his  esteem;  but  now  he  likes  me."  I  saw  that 
my  chance  word  of  mediation  had  borne  sudden  fruit. 

"Then  you  are  to  stay  in  Sitka?"  I  said,  coming 
eagerly  to  his  side. 

"I  knew  that  you  were  at  the  bottom  of  it,"  he  said 
mournfully,  waving  me  away.  "No,  I  cannot  stay 
in  Sitka,  though  the  offer  was  kindly  made." 

"But  why?  Why  are  you  not  satisfied  with  what 
is  here  ?  "  He  looked  up  at  me  almost  pleadingly  and 
I  could  see  that  it  was  a  struggle  with  him  to  hold 
himself  unmoved. 

"Why  do  you  tempt  me?"  he  asked  tremulously. 
"Has  it  come  to  it  that  you,  Fedor,  urge  me  to  turn  aside 


io6  The  Way  of  the  North 

from  what  I  know  to  be  right?  I  have  told  you  my 
call  was  not  to  services  like  these."  I  am  afraid  that 
as  I  looked  at  him  there,  so  shaken  by  the  struggle 
he  was  going  through,  there  weighed  slightly  with  me 
for  the  moment  the  necessity  for  his  mission  and  the 
consecration  he  put  upon  his  work.  I  thought  of 
him  only  as  an  old  man,  bent  and  broken,  and  yet  the 
only  creature  in  this  whole  strange  world  that  was 
bound  to  me  by  the  ties  of  voluntary  love.  I  bent  above 
him  and  put  my  arm  about  his  narrow  shoulders. 

"Joassaf,"  I  said,  "I  would  not  turn  you  wrongly 
from  any  bond  of  right,  but  have  you  thought  what  it 
will  be  to  me  to  have  you  go  away?"  He  did  not 
speak  or  look  back  at  me,  but  resolutely  shook  his  head. 
I  spoke  to  him  again,  but  got  no  answer.  So  I  talked 
to  him  as  I  would,  entreating  him  to  his  advantage 
and  urging  both  the  mercy  and  the  justice  of  the  claim, 
while  he  listened  on  unwillingly,  yet  afraid  to  answer 
lest  he  should  give  way.  How  long  we  continued  so  I 
do  not  know,  but  while  we  remained  with  our  arms 
around  each  other  like  two  girls,  the  door  of  Alexei 
Yegorovitch's  chamber  opened  and  Anna  Gregorovna 
came  out  into  the  room.  I  straightened  myself  hastily 
with  a  guilty  feeling  as  if  I  had  been  doing  an  improper 
thing;  but  she  paid  no  heed  to  our  embarrassment  and 
really  did  not  seem  to  see. 

"I  am  ready  now,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  she  said 
shyly.  I  looked  earnestly  at  her  to  see  how  she  had 
fared.  Her  face  was  flushed  and  on  it  were  the  signs 
of  tears.  But  her  eyes  had  still  their  expression  of 
serene  joy,  and  I  knew  that  the  tears  had  been  tears 
of  happiness  and  that  Alexei  Yegorovitch  had  been 
as  good  as  his  word.  I  bowed  in  answer  and  was 


The  Way  of  the  North  107 

silent  as  to  what  I  felt  inside.  But  I  had  no  mouth  for 
talking  and  she  no  wish  to  interrupt  her  thoughts,  so 
our  progress  back  to  the  great  house  was  made  without 
a  word. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  is  now  ten  days  since  we  came  to  land,  and  Alexei 
Yegorovitch  is  still  in  bed.  It  may  be  that  his  malady 
is  more  vital  than  it  seemed  and  that  he  justly  claims 
the  privilege  of  rest.  But  if  I  were  called  upon  to 
diagnose  the  case,  I  should  say  that  his  ailment  was 
not  so  much  of  body  as  of  mind.  He  eats  with  sufficient 
zest  and  his  score  for  liquor  is  large  enough  for  two. 
But  he  has  lost  the  spontaneity  of  manner  that  was 
his  early  charm,  and  the  smile  with  which  he  looked  upon 
the  world  has  given  way  to  an  almost  pathetic  gravity. 

Anna  Gregorovna  comes  to  him  each  morning  and 
makes  the  sunlight  for  him  until  noon.  The  after 
noon  she  gives  to  the  care  of  the  blind  boy,  Paul,  and 
is  away  from  her  lover  for  the  time.  Once  or  twice 
she  has  brought  the  boy  with  her  to  the  barracks  and  so 
finished  out  the  day,  but  for  the  most  part  her  duties 
have  taken  her  elsewhere. 

As  for  Marfa  Alexandrovna,  she  has  not  yet  once 
set  foot  within  the  barracks  since  we  came  ashore. 
To  what  tender  passages  the  relations  between  her  and 
the  lieutenant  had  already  come,  I  can  only  guess. 
But  granting  their  existence,  it  is  plain  to  see  the  lady's 
pride  has  dragged  itself  to  cover  to  conceal  its  pain, 
there  to  wait  in  silence  the  healing  of  the  wound. 

On  the  whole,  the  man  has  seen  the  worst  of  the 
affair,  in  that  his  sickness  has  taken  from  him  the  relief 
of  work,  and  he  can  only  lie  and  think  and  curse  the 

1 08 


The  Way  of  the  North  109 

fortune  that  has  so  embroiled  him.  It  was  hard  for 
him  to  believe  that  the  Creole  now  looks  on  him  with 
different  eyes,  and  for  a  week  at  least  he  watched  and 
waited  for  her,  with  the  air  of  one  certain  of  her  coming. 
But  she  has  made  no  sign,  and  all  in  all  her  silence  has 
so  worn  upon  him  that  he  looks  but  languidly  on  life. 

With  Anna  Gregorovna,  however,  the  matter  has 
been  different.  Alexei  Yegorovitch  has  been  faithful 
to  his  word,  and  she  has  caught  no  hint  of  his  defection. 
Her  heart  is  light  and  her  hope  unchallenged,  and 
the  only  cloud  on  her  horizon  is  the  shadow  of  ill- 
health  that  keeps  the  lieutenant  in  his  bed.  But  even 
that  shadow  is  no  presentiment  of  real  danger.  She 
is  impatient  of  it  as  a  maiden  might  be,  hindered  of  her 
wedding-day,  but  apparently  it  has  never  entered  her 
mind  that,  through  it,  that  wedding-day  may  never 
come  to  be. 

A  most  curious  portion  of  the  matter  is  the  mighty 
pleasure  the  thing  has  brought  to  me.  Aside  from  the 
lieutenant,  I  am  the  only  soul  who  can  be  said  to  have 
a  claim  upon  the  lady's  past.  The  others  count  as 
strangers  to  her,  but  between  us  two  the  dangers  and 
vigils  of  the  ship  remain  a  lasting  bond  of  sympathy,  and 
she  turns  to  me  for  comfort  and  direction  with  all  the 
innocence  and  frankness  of  a  child.  I  do  for  her  the 
petty  services  that  would  fall  upon  Alexei  were  he  well. 
She  looks  to  me  to  occupy  agreeably  her  mind  during 
the  leisure  evening  hours,  and  Baranof  has  assigned 
to  me  the  task  of  seeing  that  no  harm  comes  to  her  or 
to  the  child  in  their  outdoor  rambles  about  the  place. 

To  myself  I  may  confess  it  that  the  obligation  has 
been  greatly  to  my  taste.  Not  that  it  has  added  to  my 
peace  of  mind.  I  am  fond  of  the  girl  and  like  to  have 


no  The  Way  of  the  North 

her  with  me,  and  were  she  not  formally  betrothed  to 
Alexei  Yegorovitch,  I  can  conceive  that  she  might 
come  to  fill  the  entire  place  in  my  thought.  But  the 
recognition  of  the  fact  that  she  is  fully  promised  has 
served  to  check  such  freedom  between  us  as  might  look 
toward  disloyalty  to  him;  though,  strangely  enough, 
inside  that  boundary  it  has  acted  to  render  our  inter 
course  most  marvellously  free. 

Anna  Gregorovna  never  forgets  the  bar  that  is 
between  us,  and  trusting  equally  to  my  honesty  that 
I  will  not  forget  it,  grants  me  the  freedom  of  intimacy 
that  usually  comes  to  men  and  women  only  with  friend 
ship  of  slower  growth.  And,  so  far,  I  have  met  her  in 
good  faith  and  have  not  overstepped  the  line.  Only, 
not  being  wholly  used  to  women,  there  are  times  when 
before  acting  I  have  to  stop  to  think. 

In  cold  truth,  however,  what  reason  is  there  on  my 
part  for  the  exercise  of  denial  in  the  matter,  except, 
perhaps,  that  it  is  pleasing  to  the  lady  that  I  should  ? 
Alexei  Yegorovitch  is  no  bosom  friend  that  there  should 
lie  on  me  the  charge  to  hold  his  honour  as  my  own; 
and  then,  too,  with  the  knowledge  in  my  mind  of  his 
leaning  toward  Baranof's  daughter,  there  is  strong 
question  in  me  of  his  right  at  all  to  union  with  his 
betrothed. 

These  reflections  have  lost  nothing  in  their  influence 
that  Peter  Nicolaievitch  shares  them  equally  with 
myself.  From  the  first,  I  could  not  look  with  equanim 
ity  on  the  love  passages  between  the  sick  man  and  the 
girl,  and  we  were  not  three  days  along  before  I  thought 
lessly  let  my  feeling  into  words.  We  had  caught  from 
our  own  room  the  parting  of  the  pair  at  the  door  of 
Alexei's  apartment,  and  some  show  of  fervour  in  him 


The  Way  of  the  North  in 

that  seemed  a  supererogation  stirred  me  to  condem 
natory  speech.  Peter  looked  and  listened,  following 
the  lover's  doings  with  half-shut  eyes. 

"Don't  be  hard  on  him,"  he  said  coaxingly.  "He 
likes  her  well  enough,  only  he  likes  the  other  one,  too. 
You  would  do  about  the  same  if  you  were  in  his  place. 
He  had  not  seen  the  first  one  for  over  three  years,  and 
that  is  a  long  time  for  a  boy.  It's  lonely  in  this  country, 
and  with  a  girl  to  his  hand  like  Marfa  Alexandrovna, 
it  is  no  wonder  he  forgot  the  look  of  the  other  and  began 
to  dream  of  the  one  that  he  could  see." 

"Still,  a  man  has  no  right —  I  began  hotly,  but 

Peter  put  up  his  hand. 

"Man  dear,  what  difference  does  the  right  make 
when  you  once  get  the  idea  that  a  woman  loves  you? 
There  is  only  one  thing  then  that  seems  worth  doing, 
and  that  is  to  find  out  if  it  is  true.  Now  in  Marfa's 
case,  Alexei  has  been  finding  out." 

"Much  good  it  has  done  him,"  I  retorted  scornfully. 
"He  has  had  to  come  back  to  the  first  one  in  the  end." 
Peter  Nicolaievitch  leaned  forward  and  tapped  me  on 
the  knee. 

"There  is  where  he  is  making  his  mistake,"  he  said 
confidently.  "He  ought  to  marry  Marfa  and  let  the 
little  lady  go." 

"But  how,  in  honour,  could  he  do  it?" 

"  Honour  be  damned ! "  said  Peter  emphatically.  "  In 
a  case  like  this  it  is  kindest  to  do  what  is  best."  It 
grated  on  me  somehow  that  he  should  compare  Anna 
Gregorovna  to  her  loss. 

"Why,"  I  objected,  "is  a  marriage  with  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  the  only  good?" 

"For  him?"  he   rejoined   promptly,     "Well,   first, 


ii2  The  Way  of  the  North 

because  he  thinks  more  of  her  than  of  the  lady  from 
across  the  sea;  and  then,  because  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
is  more  suited  to  this  country  and  will  make  him  a  bet 
ter  wife.  It  would  give  a  mighty  boost  to  his  prospects, 
too,  if  the  company  had  to  think  of  him  as  her  father's 
son.  And  lastly,  my  boy,  I  am  fond  of  Marfa  Alex 
androvna  and  she  is  a  good  girl,  and  I  should  like  to 
see  her  get  what  she  wants." 

"Which  means  that  you  would  sacrifice  the  other 
one  to  her  ?  "  Peter  turned  and  gazed  at  me  with  sud 
den  speculation  in  his  glance. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "why  do  you  take  such  a 
tremendous  interest  in  this  case?  What  is  it  to  you?" 

The  question  was  unexpected,  and  for  the  moment  I 
failed  to  see  my  way  to  answering  it  out  of  hand.  It  is 
clear  to  me  now  that  my  interest  was  simply  that  of  a 
man  who  saw  injustice  to  a  woman  done.  But  in  the 
suddenness  of  the  interrogation  the  matter  seemed  to 
demand  a  reason  more  rigidly  defined. 

"I  am  not  sure,"  I  said  with  some  hesitation,  "that 
I  have  any  interest  in  it  at  all."  Peter's  face  beamed 
with  a  sudden  illumination  and  he  got  eagerly  to  his 
feet. 

"Why  don't  you?"  he  asked  enthusiastically.  "By 
the  fish  of  Saint  Mikhail,  it  is  a  great  idea!  What  is  to 
hinder  your  marrying  Anna  Gregorovna  and  letting 
Marfa  Alexandrovna  have  the  lieutenant  if  she  likes?" 
There  was  a  possible  imputation  in  his  words  that  sent 
the  glow  of  irritation  to  my  face,  and  a  hot  rejoinder 
trembled  on  my  lips.  I  had  only  to  look  at  Peter 
Nicolaievitch,  however,  to  see  that  the  idea  was  new 
to  him  and  not  an  implication  that  had  been  lingering 
in  his  mind,  and  my  anger  cooled  again  as  suddenly 


The  Way  of  the  North  113 

as  it  had  begun.  He  was  like  a  child  in  his  delight  of 
having  thought  of  it. 

"It  straightens  everything,"  he  repeated  joyously. 
"Why  didn't  I  think  of  it  before  ?" 

I  tried  in  vain  to  argue  with  him  that  I  was  neither 
fit  nor  of  a  mind  for  such  a  venture,  but  he  would  have 
none  of  it.  In  ten  minutes  my  part  in  the  matter  had 
grown  from  a  pleasure  to  a  personal  duty;  and  in 
fifteen  minutes,  the  duty  was  one  that  would  admit  of 
no  delay.  At  length  I  abandoned  the  ground  of  per 
sonal  convenience  as  an  argument  in  resistance,  and 
attacked  him  on  the  other  side. 

"How  about  the  lady?"  I  asked  with  a  smile.  "She 
is  to  be  reckoned  with  as  well  as  myself." 

"Man,  it's  a  Providence!"  he  answered.  "The 
Lord  has  delivered  her  into  your  hand.  She  is  well 
used  to  you,  if  she  isn't  in  love  with  you — and  I'm  not 
sure  jiow  but  what  she  likes  you  as  well  as  she  does 
him.  Why,  if  I  had  your  chance  of  luck  with  her,  I 
would  go  in  and  marry  her  myself."  He  was  so  in 
earnest  in  the  matter  that  I  laughed  outright. 

"If  I  could  square  myself  with  my  conscience,  Peter," 
I  said,  with  assumed  frankness,  "I  should  like  nothing 
better  than  to  help  you  out." 

"Then  you  will  try?"  he  persisted  eagerly. 

"No,  no,  the  conscience  still  works."  His  face  fell 
in  genuine  disappointment. 

"Well,  think  about  it  at  least,"  he  said  persuasively, 
and  added  with  an  insinuating  sigh  of  conviction,  "It's 
a  great  idea!" 

"All  right,"  I  answered,  for  it  seemed  best  to  make 
an  end  to  the  matter  in  the  easiest  way.  "I'll  think 
about  it,  if  you  like,  but  that  is  as  far  as  it  will  go."  His 


H4 

spirits  soared  up  at  once  to  their  former  level  of  enthu 
siasm,  and  he  rose  and  took  up  his  hat. 

"The  Lord  Himself  couldn't  help  you  more  than  I 
will,"  he  said  earnestly,  "and  I  shall  lose  no  time  in 
getting  to  work." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  asked  hastily,  for 
the  fear  was  on  me  that  he  might  be  meditating  action 
that  was  .ill-advised.  He  stopped  and  looked  at  me 
with  assumed  reproach. 

"My  boy,"  he  said  with  mock  solemnity,  "at  the  very 
least  it  is  not  good  manners  to  ask  Providence  what  it 
is  going  to  do  for  you.  But  I  do  not  mind  confiding  to 
you  that  I  am  about  to  go  in  to  the  sick  man  yonder  to 
say  that  I  have  had  a  vision  concerning  him  and  that 
the  Lord  is  going  to  let  him  see  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
before  the  sun  goes  down  to-night."  I  looked  at  him 
in  speechless  amazement,  and  before  I  could  recover 
myself  he  had  bowed  to  me  with  exaggerated  gravity, 
winked  solemnly,  and  was  gone. 

It  took  some  minutes'  space  to  restore  my  equa 
nimity,  but  in  the  end  peace  came  to  me  with  a  smile. 
I  had  a  premonition  that  Peter  Nicolaievitch's  prophecy 
would  prove  false,  and  time  has  borne  me  out  in  my 
opinion.  It  is  now  seven  days  since  he  assumed  his 
role  of  autocratic  divinity,  and  his  best  effort  has  so  far 
failed  to  bend  the  unwilling  lady  to  his  wish.  But  even 
if  he  did,  it  would  not  change  me  in  my  decision  not  to 
cooperate  with  him  in  the  plan. 

He  is  right,  of  course,  in  that  such  conduct  on  my 
part  would  not  be  treason  to  a  friend,  but  somehow 
the  thought  of  the  venture  comes  always  to  me  with  a 
vague  feeling  of  distaste.  I  never  was  a  hand  to  pursue 
a  bird  into  another's  field.  Yet  the  idea  h«s  a  certain 


The  Way  of  the  North  115 

baleful  fascination  about  it  that  brings  it  up  at  intervals 
in  my  mind,  unconsciously,  without  my  looking  for  it. 
And  worst  of  all,  from  the  time  I  talked  with  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  I  have  not  been  able  to  look  at  Anna 
Gregorovna  without  being  secretly  conscious  of  the 
change. 

"Why  not?"  it  says,  and  sounds  so  loud  in  my  ears 
that  more  than  once  I  have  found  myself  with  my  heart 
in  my  mouth,  looking  at  her  stealthily  to  see  if  she 
had  heard.  This  humour  has  so  grown  upon  me  that 
to-day,  when  I  came  suddenly  upon  her  in  the  open,  my 
pulse  stirred  in  a  real  panic  of  uneasiness,  and  I  was 
fairly  timid  of  approaching  her. 

The  trees  here,  as  elsewhere  along  this  coast,  grew 
thickly  down  to  the  very  beach,  except  that  immediately 
about  the  houses  they  had  been  cut  away  both  for  pro 
tection  and  for  use  as  little  fields.  The  blind  boy  was 
with  her  and  they  were  halted  at  the  edge  of  the  meadow 
formed  by  a  larger  clearing  beyond  the  southern  gate. 
She  had  him  by  the  hand  and  was  urging  him  to  touch 
the  muzzle  of  one  of  the  cows  we  had  brought  over  with 
us  in  the  ship — the  first  ones  since  the  beginning  that 
had  so  far  been  in  this  new  land.  The  child  was  in  a 
flutter  of  excitement  at  the  experience,!and  now  retreated 
and  now  advanced  with  hand  outstretched  in  delicious 
apprehension. 

"For  shame,  Paul,  to  be  so  fearful!"  the  girl  urged 
mockingly,  as  he  hung  back  on  her  grasp,  but  the  child 
still  hesitated. 

"It  breathes  so  hard,  Anna,"  he  pleaded  earnestly, 
"it  disturbs  me."  She  saw  me  coming  and  turned  with 
a  smile. 

"Here  is  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  she  said  with  mock 


u6  The  Way  of  the  North 

reassurance,  "  Now  you  will  not  be  afraid ! "  The  boy 
stopped  struggling  and  listened  a  moment  for  my 
approach;  but  his  mind  was  too  preoccupied  with  the 
matter  in  hand,  and  recovering  himself  almost  in 
stantly,  he  answered  her  with  growing  earnestness  in 
his  voice. 

"I  am  not  afraid,  Anna,"  he  said  with  an  impatient 
stamp  of  his  foot.  "You  cannot  say  that  I  am  afraid. 
Only,  the  animal  is  new  and  I  am  not  accustomed  to  it." 

"Then  why  do  you  not  put  out  your  hand?"  she 
persisted  mischievibusly.  He  turned  to  me  with  the 
outraged  dignity  of  childhood  and  beckoned  me  to 
approach. 

"I  am  not  afraid,  Fedor  Kirilovitch.  You  know  I 
am  not  afraid!  Tell  Anna  Gregorovna  it  is  only  that 
I  do  not  wish  to  do  it  alone.  If  others  are  going  to 
touch  the  animal  I  will  do  so,  too."  I  took  his  hand. 

"Why  do  you  tease  the  child,"  I  said  reproachfully. 
"It  is  all  right,  Paul,  to  be  cautious  with  new  things. 
Anna  Gregorovna  laughed  at  you  because  she  thought 
you  should  believe  her  when  she  told  you  you  would 
not  come  to  harm."  The  girl's  face  flushed  and  she 
gave  me  a  quick  glance. 

"I  do  not  know  where  my  heart  was,"  she  said  softly. 
"I  had  no  thought  he  would  be  disturbed."  With  a 
sudden  access  of  tenderness  she  stooped  and  put  her 
arms  around  the  shoulders  of  the  child.  He  received 
the  caress  passively  except  for  a  sudden  uplifting  of 
the  face  to  her  in  recognition,  and  turned  again  to  me. 

"Take  me  up,"  he  commanded,  stretching  out  his 
arms.  "I  will  touch  the  animal  myself."  I  bent  to 
him  in  turn,  and  Anna  Gregorovna  would  have  let  him 
from  her,  but  the  blind  boy  clung  to  her  as  well. 


The  Way  of  the  North  117 

"I  want  you,  too,"  he  declared.  "We  will  touch 
the  animal  together."  Anna  Gregorovna  resigned 
herself  to  the  situation  and  kept  her  arm  about  him  as 
I  took  him  up.  Thus  fortified,  his  misgivings  passed 
away,  and  he  placed  his  hands  according  to  direction 
on  the  creature's  neck. 

"It  is  true,  Anna,  as  you  told  me,"  he  said  gravely. 
"There  is  no  harm  comes  to  one  from  the  touching  of 
this  cow."  He  ran  his  active  fingers  up  and  down  the 
animal's  shoulder,  alternately  smoothing  and  ruffling 
up  the  hair,  and  added  meditatively:  "I  believe  that 
I  should  like  her  if  she  did  not  blow  so  with  her  nose." 
Anna  Gregorovna  looked  up  at  me  with  a  smile  of 
understanding. 

"I  wish  I  really  were  the  witch  those  people  on  the 
boat  thought  me,"  she  said  irrelevantly. 

"Why?"  I  returned,  though  the  meaning  in  her  eyes 
was  not  hard  to  understand.  She  looked  with  signifi 
cant  wistfulness  from  me  to  the  boy  before  she  spoke. 

"Oh,  there  are  so  many  changes  in  things  that  I 
would  like  to  make!"  I  had  been  following  the  move 
ments  of  the  child  rather  than  listening  to  her  talk,  and 
her  answer  did  not  fix  itself  upon  me  definitely  in  words. 
But  something  in  it  must  have  stirred  a  sudden  memory 
as  I  heard  it,  for,  like  a  flash,  I  thought  again  of  Peter 
and  his  heart's  desire  for  me  and  for  this  girl,  and  along 
with  it  there  came  a  pleasing  consciousness  of  how  near 
to  me  she  stood. 

She  was  so  close  that  her  garments  brushed  me  from 
the  shoulder  to  the  knee,  and  the  arm  that  was  about  the 
child  rested  lightly  across  my  breast.  With  Peter's 
unhallowed  prophecy  in  mind,  I  experienced  a  sensation 
that  was  new  to  me  in  thus  being  touched,  and  one  which 


n8  The  Way  of  the  North 

stirred  a  feeling  in  me  which  it  is  still  difficult  to  express. 
If  I  had  a  thought  for  the  instant  it  was  to  prolong  the 
delicious  pleasure  as  widely  as  I  could,  and  to  that  end 
I  forced  the  impulse  to  speak  naturally  in  answer  lest 
she  should  guess  the  thought  that  was  in  my  mind  and 
take  fright  and  draw  away. 

"What  would  you  change?"  I  ventured  absently. 
She  looked  again  at  the  blind  boy  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"For  one  thing,  I  would  make  windows  in  a  tenement 
I  know  of,  that  would  let  in  the  light." 

"Without  prejudice,  I  could  join  you  in  that,"  I 
assented.  Then  as  she  showed  no  inclination  to  speak 
further,  I  went  on:  "And  this  accomplished,  what 
would  you  do  then  ? " 

"It  was  the  one  thought  that  brought  the  wish,"  she 
answered  readily,  "but  I  can  easily  think  of  other 
things  that  I  would  like  to  do.  For  instance,"  she  said 
with  a  flash  of  mischief  in  her  eyes,  "I  would  surely 
order  it  that  when  you  arrived  in  a  strange  place  you 
would  find  awaiting  you  the  person  and  the  greeting 
you  once  told  me  that  you  missed." 

"In  this  land,  at  least,  that  requires  no  further  necro 
mancy,"  I  said  quietly.  "I  have  found  her,  and  it, 
without  even  the  making  of  a  wish."  She  flushed 
prettily  at  the  compliment  and  half  bowed  her  head. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  "but  I  meant  one  who 
would  be  to  you  all  in  all,  and  for  all  time." 

"That,"  I  answered  promptly,  "I  am  certain  you 
would  never  be  able  to  conjure  for  me  with  all  your 
spells." 

"Why  not?  You  are  surely  not  so  conceited  as  to 
believe  that  such  a  thing  could  never  be  ? " 


The  Way  of  the  North  119 

"No,"  I  answered,  "it  is  a  question  of  time  rather 
than  of  conceit.  Your  ministrations  would  come  too 
late."  She  looked  up  thoughtfully  at  me  before  she 
spoke. 

"Too  late?"  she  repeated  with  feminine  curiosity. 
"Then  after  all  she  is  already  found?" 

"Yes,  found — and  lost  in  the  finding."  She  looked 
up  again  with  her  quick  glance  of  sympathy. 

"And  you  never  told  me!"  she  said  softly. 

"No,  I  have  never  told  even  her."  No  suspicion  of 
my  meaning  seemed  to  dawn  upon  her,  and  she  stood 
a  moment  considering  the  matter  in  silence  with  down 
cast  eyes. 

"Then  she  is  dead  ?"  she  said  at  length,  and  her  voice 
was  almost  a  whisper. 

"No,"  I  answered,  for  a  perverse  spirit  was  upon 
me  and  I  was  determined  to  see  the  matter  through. 
"But  when  I  found  the  lady,  she  already  belonged  to 
another  man."  I  strove  to  keep  my  voice  at  the  usual 
steady  pitch,  but  it  is  not  unlikely  it  was  lacking  some 
where  in  control,  or  perhaps  the  words  themselves  were 
enough  to  sound  a  warning.  Be  it  as  it  may,  at  the 
hearing,  she  turned  on  me  with  a  startled  look  of 
inquiry  and  suspicion,  and  as  she  made  up  her  mind 
I  saw  the  colour  rise  slowly  in  her  cheeks.  Her  arm 
slipped  from  about  the  child  and  she  stood  away  from 
me  with  her  hands  drawn  down  behind  her  into  the  long 
folds  of  her  skirt. 

The  blind  boy  perceiving  that  we  no  longer  spoke  to 
him,  pushed  out  with  his  elbows  as  an  intimation  of 
desire,  and  I  set  him  again  upon  the  ground.  My 
heart  seemed  in  my  throat,  and  under  my  calm  I  was 
cursing  my  stupidity  in  risking  the  good  that  had 


120  The  Way  of  the  North 

already  come  to  me  on  the  perilous  chance  of  achieving 
something  more.  But  Peter  Nicolaievitch's  philosophy 
stuck  in  my  head  and  I  knew  for  a  certainty  that  I 
should  not  be  happy  till  I  had  found  out  really  if  Anna 
Gregorovna  cared.  She  tried  to  keep  her  eyes  on  mine 
and  there  was  a  sudden  new  reserve  in  them  that  set 
me  distinctly  at  a  distance. 

For  the  long  run  it  is  better  to  fight  a  thing  out 
decisively  and  settle  it  once  for  all.  So  I  steeled  my 
self  against  the  foolishness  of  softness  and  waited  in 
silence  what  she  would  do.  Only,  I  looked  back  so 
steadfastly  into  her  eyes  that  in  spite  of  her  she  had  to 
let  them  down.  She  spoke  again  as  soon  as  her  com 
posure  gave  her  warrant. 

"You  were  right  in  not  telling  her,"  she  said  as  if 
there  had  been  no  pause,  "for  in  that  case  the  telling 
was  something  she  ought  not  to  hear." 

For  some  reason,  the  reply  came  as  a  disappoint 
ment.  What  I  had  hoped  for  I  do  not  know,  but  it 
was  clearly  not  the  thing  that  she  had  said.  The 
spirit  of  retaliation  began  to  stir  wickedly  within  me  and 
urged  me  on  to  speech. 

"So  long  as  I  ask  nothing  in  return,"  I  said  defiantly, 
"even  if  I  had  told  her,  there  would  have  been  no 
wrong."  She  shook  her  head  involuntarily  in  negation. 

"For  you,  perhaps,"  she  said,  "but  not  for  her." 

"No,  for  her  too,"  I  persisted  doggedly.  "A  man's 
love  is  not  a  thing  that  brands  a  woman  because  she 
cannot  take  it  up."  Anna  Gregorovna's  face  softened 
and  took  on  a  look  of  tremulous  appeal.  She  made  a 
sudden  little  movement  forward  and  caught  me  with 
both  hands  about  the  arm. 

"Do  not  talk  to  me  like  that,  Fedor  Kirilovitch," 


The  Way  of  the  North  121 

she  said  impetuously,  the  words  falling  over  themselves 
in  the  hurry  of  her  speech.  "You  must  not  talk  to 
me  like  that.  It  disturbs  me  to  hear  it  and  makes  me 
unhappy,  and  I  know  you  would  not  want  to  do  that." 
She  shook  my  arm  as  she  spoke  to  emphasise  the  appeal, 
and  her  whole  figure  stirred  with  the  vehemence  of  her 
distress. 

"The  worst  is  done,"  I  said  gently.  "You  know  the 
truth  now,  and  there  is  nothing  more  to  say." 

"  But  why,  when  you  ought  not,  did  you  say  it  at  all  ?" 
she  persisted,  still  shaking  my  arm.  I  put  my  hand 
on  hers  and  held  them  still. 

"To  be  honest,"  I  said  simply,  "I  had  no  thought 
of  doing  it  when  we  began  to  talk,  and  I  am  not  at  all 
sure  I  knew  the  thing  myself  until  to-day.  Of  a  cer 
tainty  you  will  hold  me  guiltless  of  any  wish  to  give 
you  pain,  and  as  there  is  nothing  sought  from  you  as 
payment  in  return,  it  is  not  clear  how  the  telling  should 
disturb  your  peace."  She  shrugged  her  shoulders 
with  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"But  I  shall  have  to  know  it  all  my  life,"  she  said 
resentfully,  and  bent  down  her  head  so  I  could  not  see 
her  face. 

It  pleased  me  that  she  should  take  the  matter  in  this 
way.  Though  she  was  plainly  moved  by  my  confession 
and  set  upon  her  guard,  her  dissent  showed  no  over- 
flavour  of  distaste  nor  was  she  wroth  with  me  beyond 
appeasement  for  so  having  spoken. 

"Is  it  so  shameful  a  thing  that  I  should  care?"  I 
said  a  little  bitterly.  "Rather,  after  what  we  have 
been  through  together,  to  me  it  would  seem  a  miracle 
if  I  did  not."  She  did  not  answer  and  her  head  went 
farther  down. 


122  The  Way  of  the  North 

"Surely,"  I  insisted,  "you  can  tell  me  what  you 
think."  She  raised  her  head  but  kept  her  face  turned 
from  me  and  looked  around  as  if  in  question. 

"Where  is  Paul?"  she  said  with  a  show  of  anxiety. 
"By  himself,  I  am  afraid  he  will  come  to  harm." 

"Tell  me,"  I  demanded,  "do  you  really  care?" 
She  made  no  answer  and  went  on  as  if  she  had  not 
heard. 

"I  do  not  see  him  anywhere,"  she  said  with  earnest 
ness,  and  moved  as  if  to  let  me  go. 

"No,"  I  said  resolutely,  holding  her  hands  still  fast 
upon  my  arm.  "One  way  or  the  other,  I  will  have  an 
answer  before  I  go."  She  looked  up  for  an  instant 
directly  into  my  eyes  and  as  quickly  looked  down 
again. 

"How  can  I  tell?"  she  said  with  a  nervous  little 
laugh.  "I  am  not  angry  if  that  is  what  you  mean; 
and — if  there  is  no  wrong  in  it — I  like  to  be  loved." 
With  a  sudden  movement  she  drew  away  her  hands 
and  went  quickly  away  from  me  along  the  path.  I 
called  after  her  but  she  paid  no  heed,  and  I  remained 
standing  where  I  was  while  she  continued  steadfastly 
in  pursuit  of  the  child,  and  in  her  searching  never 
once  looked  back. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  way  along  which  Anna  Gregorovna  went  passed 
by  the  angle  of  the  stockade  and  dropped  sharply  down 
ward  toward  the  sea.  As  I  accomplished  the  turn,  I 
saw  her  half-way  down  the  slope  and  beyond  her  the 
blind  boy  safely  in  the  convoy  of  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
and  Joassaf  Petrovitch,  the  pope.  I  quickened  my 
steps  and  reached  them  almost  as  Anna  Gregorovna 
joined  the  group.  No  element  of  unusualness  seemed 
to  attach  with  them  to  the  fact  that  the  blind  boy  had 
escaped  from  our  control,  and  neither  Anna  Gregorovna 
nor  myself  felt  it  needful  to  bring  the  matter  to  their 
notice. 

Joassaf  Petrovitch  carried  a  small  basket  and  was 
evidently  in  attendance  on  the  girl.  They  greeted 
us  as  we  came  up  and  we  went  together  along  the  road. 
In  the  open  sunlight  anyone  would  have  noticed  the 
ten  days'  change  that  had  come  to  Marfa  Alexandrovna, 
both  in  carriage  and  in  looks.  When  I  first  saw  her 
on  the  sands  her  most  marked  characteristics  were 
her  quiet  dignity  and  her  air  of  being  perfectly  at  peace 
with  her  surroundings  and  herself.  Now,  her  figure 
was  lacking  in  erectness,  she  was  thinner  and  there 
was  a  pathetic  hollowness  about  the  eyes  that  told  of 
a  spirit  ill  at  ease.  But  she  held  herself  to  seem 
alert  in  voice  and  animation,  and  laughed  and 
talked  as  if  to  hide  the  fact  that  there  was  trouble 
for  her  in  the  world. 

123 


124  The  Way  of  the  North 

"Where  is  your  steward,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  she 
asked  with  a  smile,  "that  you  have  to  come  yourself 
for  the  distribution  of  the  fish?" 

"It  is  a  larger  fish  than  these  that  I  am  after,  Marfa 
Alexandrovna,"  I  answered.  "Marya  Andreievna  has 
honoured  me  by  at  last  taking  my  advice  concerning 
Potap  Burikof,  who  is  suddenly  more  ill,  and  I  am  on 
my  way  to  visit  him." 

"Is  he  then  really  sick?"  she  said  soberly.  "I  had 
not  heard  of  it." 

"The  affliction  is  sudden  and  only  came  this  morn 
ing.  His  son,  who  went  out  with  the  others  some  weeks 
back,  was  caught  in  a  drift  when  the  ice  went  out,  and 
was  crushed.  The  news  was  brought  in  this  morning, 
and  the  shock  has  prostrated  both  the  old  man  and 
his  wife." 

"The  poor  creatures!"  she  said  compassionately. 
"If  the  matter  will  wait  till  I  have  chosen  my  fish,  I 
will  go  with  you." 

"It  will  wait,  and  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  go. 
The  boy  of  course  is  past  healing,  and  the  father's 
case  is  one  that  calls  not  so  much  for  surgery  as  for 
sympathy  and  cheer."  She  turned  to  the  priest  and 
beckoned  to  him  to  be  more  quick. 

"Come,  Joassaf  Petrovitch,"  she  said.  "Let  us 
get  through  this  business  as  quickly  as  we  may."  The 
priest  had  fallen  into  the  usual  reverie  that  comes  to 
him  when  still.  She  watched  him  with  amusement  as 
he  roused  himself  to  do  her  bidding. 

"Peter  Nicolaievitch  is  away  with  the  men  at  the 
river,"  she  whispered  mischievously,  "so  I  have 
impressed  Joassaf  Petrovitch  to  carry  my  hamper  and 
act  as  porter  for  the  house."  The  priest's  face  beamed, 


The  Way  of  the  North  125 

and  he  ambled  in  our  rear  with  an  air  of  perfect  satis 
faction. 

"He  does  not  seem  greatly  in  need  of  sympathy,"  I 
ventured.  "I  should  be  happy  if  you  made  him  so 
contented  that  he  would  not  wish  to  go  away." 

"It  is  a  strange  thing,"  the  girl  said  thoughtfully, 
"but  he  seems  to  have  no  pride.  My  father  has  gone 
further  than  he  would  with  most  men  in  urging  him  to 
take  the  archimandrite's  place." 

"Perhaps  the  matter  would  have  been  easier  for  him 
if  he  had  been  offered  less.  Now,  he  is  disturbed  not 
only  by  the  belief  that  he  has  a  mission  to  perform 
elsewhere,  but  also  by  the  thought  that  he  is  not  in 
orders  and  black  frocked,  and  has  no  business  in  the 
place." 

"Yes,"  she  continued  musingly.  "It  would  be 
better  if  he  were  a  monk.  But  it  is  different  here 
from  what  it  is  in  Russia,  and  if  my  father  willed  it, 
Joassaf  Petrovitch  could  be  archimandrite  in  spite  of 
his  white  frock."  She  half  paused  and  looked  over 
her  shoulder  at  the  pope  with  an  expression  of  real 
respect. 

"Oh,  it  is  a  shame,"  she  exclaimed.  "He  is  the 
first  priest  with  real  saintliness  we  have  had  here  for 
years." 

"Be  patient,"  I  said  soothingly,  though  I  shared  in 
her  vexation.  "Between  us  we  will  make  him  so  com 
fortable  and  happy  that  he  will  surely  bend  to  our 
desire." 

We  had  reached  the  lower  level  and  came  to  where 
the  tables  were  set  out.  Those  for  the  whites  were 
farther  up  and  held  the  larger  and  finer  fish.  Near 
the  water  the  spreads  became  mere  boards  on  sticks  to 


i26  The  Way  of  the  North 

hold  the  portion  the  bounty  of  the  Company  dealt  out 
to  its  Indian  wards.  The  stewards  of  all  the  great 
houses  were  there  and  the  Indians  had  already  arranged 
themselves  in  a  long  double  line.  By  custom,  the  distri 
bution  waited  on  the  serving  of  the  commandant's  house, 
and  at  our  approach  a  murmur  of  satisfaction  went  up 
from  the  crowd.  Marfa  Alexandrovna  went  directly  to 
the  highest  table  and  spoke  to  the  man  in  charge. 

"You  are  late  to-day  with  the  giving,  Mikail.  It  is 
already  past  noon." 

"It  was  the  tide,  my  lady,"  said  the  man  deferen 
tially,  "and  the  wind  at  sunrise  that  blew  the  boats  far 
out.  It  is  only  within  the  hour  that  they  were  able  to 
beat  in."  He  straightened  the  fish  upon  the  table 
with  a  conscious  air  of  pride.  "They  are  before  you," 
he  continued,  "if  you  will  be  pleased  to  choose."  The 
girl  looked  them  over  critically  and  with  evident 
pleasure  in  the  work. 

"My  father  was  especially  pleased  with  the  new  sort 
you  sent  us  yesterday,"  she  said  without  lifting  her 
eyes  from  the  task.  "I  told  him  particularly  of  the 
trouble  you  took  in  the'  selection." 

The  gratified  official  bowed  with  a  pleased  humility, 
but  at  the  same  time  his  manner  plainly  carried  the 
impression  that  the  praise  received  had  been  no  other 
than  his  due.  He  dived  excitedly  into  a  basket  under 
the  table  and  emerged  with  a  great  fish  half  as  long  as 
himself. 

"Another  surprise  for  you,  Marfa  Alexandrovna," 
he  said  triumphantly  as  he  laid  it  on  the  slab.  The 
girl  gave  a  little,  astonished  cry. 

"A  sturgeon!"  she  said  delightedly.  "Where  did 
you  get  it  so  early  in  the  year  ?  " 


The  Way  of  the  North  127 

"It  was  taken  this  morning  in  the  river  where  they 
were  mending  the  traps.  Peter  Nicolaievitch  had  it 
sent  at  once." 

"It  was  thoughtful  of  him,"  said  the  Creole,  "and 
Alexander  Andreievitch  will  be  pleased.  Send  it  to 
the  house,  and  when  you  yourself  return  I  will  see  to  it 
that  they  set  out  for  you  a  proper  glass."  The  man 
bowed  thankfully. 

"I  shall  find  the  green  wine  good  for  the  pledging 
of  your  health,"  he  said,  and  laid  by  the  fish. 

Marfa  Alexandrovna  chose  from  the  table  the  further 
provender  she  needed  and  turned  to  receive  her  basket 
from  the  pope.  But  in  the  interval  he  had  wandered 
quite  away  and  I  saw  him  standing  at  a  table  at  a 
distance  where  the  natives  were  supplied. 

"He  is  still  true  to  his  call,"  I  said  with  some  amuse 
ment.  "He  has  left  you  to  go  to  the  people  of  his 
choice." 

The  distance  was  too  great  for  easy  hail,  and  for  that 
matter  there  was  so  great  a  noise  of  talking  in  the 
place  that  a  call  stood  no  fair  chance  of  being  heard. 
So  I  made  my  way  to  where  the  pope  stood,  carrying 
my  message  myself  as  the  quickest  means  of  getting 
speech  with  him. 

As  I  came  to  him  I  saw  that  it  was  not  idle  interest 
alone  that  held  him  to  the  spot.  He  stood  by  the  side 
of  the  dispenser  of  fish  and  was  watching  with  absorbed 
interest  the  process  of  distribution.  There  was  a  well- 
meant  effort  at  equality  in  the  giving  out,  in  that  the 
fish  was  cut  and  thrown  into  a  rude  scale  for  weighing, 
the  law  of  the  Company  giving  to  each  beneficiary  an 
equal  amount. 

But  difficulty  had  come  in  the  division,  and  a  crowd 


i28  The  Way  of  the  North 

of  excited  natives  were  gathered  around  the  officer  in 
charge.  Immediately  in  front  of  him  was  a  man  whose 
arms  and  body  moved  in  fierce  gesticulation  and 
whose  voice  was  raised  above  the  common  din  in 
continuous  and  high-pitched  cries.  In  each  hand  he 
held  up  portions  of  the  fish  that  had  been  assigned  him 
and  waved  them  wildly  in  the  butcher's  face. 

"What  is  the  matter  here?"  I  demanded,  as  I  took 
the  pope  lightly  by  the  arm.  He  looked  around  at 
me,  but  without  giving  up  his  place. 

"The  man  has  not  been  treated  fairly,"  he  said  with 
a  calm  air  of  judgment.  "He  has  not  received  that 
which  was  his  right."  The  fish  butcher  heard  and 
turned  upon  him  with  a  sneer. 

"What  do  you  know  about  it  ?"  he  said  with  an  ugly 
show  of  teeth.  "The  man  has  his  full  weight  like  the 
rest."  The  pope's  face  flushed,  but  he  answered 
without  haste. 

"Yes,  the  count  is  full,  but  only  half  of  it  is  fit  for 
food.  You  have  given  him  two  heads."  The  native 
must  have  understood  some  Russian,  for  at  the  mention 
he  renewed  his  clamour  and  lifted  up  again  his  fish. 
The  piece  in  one  hand  was  firm  flesh  of  back  and 
sides,  but  had  the  head  attached.  That  in  the  other 
hand  was  but  a  head  from  which  hung  down  the  useless 
entrails  as  they  had  been  dragged  out  from  the  fish. 
For  all  his  noise,  the  butcher  paid  no  more  attention  to 
the  man  than  if  he  had  been  a  fly.  What  apology  he 
vouchsafed  was  directed  wholly  to  the  pope. 

"Some  one  has  to  take  the  heads,"  he  said  with  a 
deprecatory  shrug. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  pope,  "but  if  you  had  not  cut 
for  the  young  woman  who  came  before  him  a  piece 


The  Way  of  the  North  129 

entirely  without  waste,  he  would  not  have  had  to  take 
two."  The  butcher  shrugged  his  shoulders  again  and 
made  to  pass  the  thing  off  as  a  joke. 

"Oh,  the  man  is  old,"  he  said  with  a  grin.  "He 
does  not  need  so  much  to  keep  him  fat  as  the  girl  does. 
And  besides,  if  he  is  not  satisfied,  and  there  is  any  left, 
he  can  come  again  at  the  end."  The  pope  stuck 
bravely  to  his  guns. 

"But  why,"  he  said  sharply,  "should  he  wait  until 
the  end  to  get  that  which  it  is  his  right  to  receive  now  ?  " 
The  butcher's  patience  was  exhausted,  and,  seizing  a 
fish  from  the  table  by  the  tail,  he  swung  it  around  and 
brought  it  with  convincing  force  on  the  head  of  the 
man  who  had  complained. 

"Clear  out!"  he  shouted,  "and  let  the  others  get 
their  fish."  The  crowd  scattered  and  the  complainant 
forwent  his  grievance  and  skipped  nimbly  out  of  reach. 
Emboldened  by  his  success,  the  butcher  next  turned 
on  Joassaf  Petrovitch,  who,  throughout,  had  quietly 
held  his  ground. 

"You,  too,"  he  bawled  vindictively,  "or  I'll  show 
you  something  that  is  stronger  than  religion  to  make 
men  move!"  He  stepped  out  from  behind  his  table 
and  came  toward  us  with  the  evident  intention  of  visiting 
bodily  punishment  on  the  priest.  The  latter  faced  him 
without  show  of  fear. 

"Strike  me,"  he  said  sternly,  "but  in  either  case  I 
shall  make  complaint " 

"Complaint!"  echoed  an  authoritative  voice  behind 
us.  "Who  is  it  says  complaint?" 

At  the  first  sound,  the  belligerency  of  the  butcher's 
manner  vanished  to  the  winds.  He  fled  back  round  his 
table  as  quickly  as  he  had  come,  and  without  a  further 


130  The  Way  of  the  North 

look  in  our  direction  industriously  began  again  the 
interrupted  dissection  of  his  fish. 

I  turned  to  see  the  cause  of  his  retreat  and  found 
Baranof  himself  immediately  behind  us.  He  stood 
with  his  feet  wide  apart  and  hands  forced  down  so 
hard  into  the  pockets  of  his  jacket  that  his  shoulders 
were  pushed  up.  His  head  was  thrust  far  forward 
and  almost  touched  his  breast.  The  corners  of  his  lips 
were  drawn  grimly  down,  and  his  half-closed  eyes 
fixed  themselves  searchingly  on  the  pope  as  if  de 
manding  answer  to  his  question.  He  lurched  slightly 
now  and  then,  and  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  he  had 
been  drinking  more  than  was  good  for  his  self-control. 

"Meddling,  eh?"  he  went  on  with  a  sneer.  "By 
God,  one  priest  is  as  bad  as  the  rest!  Well,"  he 
demanded  insolently,  still  continuing  to  address  him 
self  directly  to  the  pope,  "have  you  found  a  scandal  fit 
for  report?" 

The  old  man  turned  his  serene  face  slowly  toward 
the  questioner  with  no  sign  beyond  a  trace  of  colour  to 
show  he  was  excited  or  annoyed. 

"I  have  found  no  scandal,  Alexander  Andreievitch," 
he  said  mildly.  "I  was  simply  reasoning  with  this 
man  because  he  was  unjust."  Baranof  disengaged 
one  hand  from  his  pocket  long  enough  to  beckon  to  the 
butcher  to  leave  his  work  and  come. 

"What  is  this,  Yakov?"  he  demanded  sternly. 
"Have  you  changed  the  weights?"  The  man  took 
off  his  hat  and  bowed  before  him.  Then  he  answered, 
lying  so  glibly  that  no  one  not  an  observer  of  the  facts 
could  have  told  his  statement  from  the  truth. 

"Your  highness  can  see  for  himself,"  he  began 
unctuously,  "that  to  the  weight  of  a  scale  the  measure 


The  Way  of  the  North  131 

is  still  the  same.  It  is  this  new  priest  who  would  change 
the  rule  and  weigh  out  fish  without  head  or  fin." 

"No,"  interposed  the  pope,  "it  was  this  man  who 
weighed  more  heads  than  one  to  a  single  man."  The 
man  was  not  slow  to  catch  that  Baranof's  irritation  ran 
to  the  priest,  not  to  him. 

"Your  highness  will  understand,"  he  said  with  de 
ferential  insinuation,  "that  what  I  did  was  wholly  by 
the  established  rule.  It  may  be  that  in  this  case  the 
share  was  not  altogether  of  the  best;  but  having  given 
it,  what  could  I  do  ?  If  I  had  received  it  back  on  the 
man's  complaint,  every  brown  beast  in  the  line  would 
have  found  his  fault  with  me  when  it  came  his  turn,  and 
where  would  discipline  be  then  ?  The  priest  is  new," 
he  added  with  a  magnanimous  air  of  explanation. 
"He  does  not  know  the  need,  or  he  would  not  have 
interfered."  Baranof  did  not  speak,  so  I  knew  the  plea 
had  weighed  with  him.  He  grunted  ungraciously  and 
turned  his  suspicious  eyes  again  slowly  on  the  pope. 

"The  man  is  right,"  he  said  coldly.  "There  must 
be  no  argument  with  a  native  about  the  lots." 
Joassaf  Petrovitch  made  no  reply,  but  stood  listen 
ing  with  his  air  of  placid  patience  and  waited  what 
the  commander  would  do  next.  His  meekness  angered 
Baranof  more  than  loud-mouthed  protest  would  have 
done. 

"Speak  up,  man,"  he  said  with  growing  irritation. 
"When  you  are  wrong,  why  don't  you  own  it  honestly. 
You  were  quick  enough  before."  The  pope,  thus 
goaded,  courageously  stood  his  ground. 

"I  was  not  in  the  wrong,"  he  said  with  quiet  dignity. 
"You  have  misjudged  the  case  because  you  do  not 
know  the  facts." 


132  The  Way  of  the  North 

Baranof  s  hands  came  out  of  his  pockets  with  a  jerk, 
and  I  thought  he  was  about  to  lay  violent  hands  upon 
the  pope,  but  he  thought  better  of  the  matter  and 
stood  working  his  fingers  with  a  growing  spark  of  anger 
shining  in  his  eyes. 

"There  it  is,"  he  said  as  if  to  himself.  "I  said  they 
were  all  alike — and  I  thought  of  giving  him  the  archi 
mandrite's  place!"  Even  the  pope's  saintliness  was 
not  proof  against  insinuation  such  as  this. 

"At  least,"  he  retorted  sharply,  "you  will  admit 
that  I  never  sought  the  place?"  Baranof  waved  the 
question  from  him  with  a  gesture  of  absolute  disdain. 

"Don't  talk  with  me,"  he  said  with  maudlin  dignity; 
and  then  again  in  a  louder  tone,  "Don't  talk  to  me, 
I  say!  Yesterday  you  were  archimandrite;  but  to-day 
you  could  not  have  the  place  if  you  were  the  only  priest 
this  side  of  heaven!"  The  pope  caught  at  his  meaning 
as  if  it  had  been  good  news. 

"Then  I  am  at  liberty  to  go  away?"  he  demanded 
eagerly. 

"Liberty!"  said  Baranof.  "Liberty!  You  are  going 
to  go  whether  you  want  to  or  not!"  The  order  was 
intended  as  a  rebuke,  but  to  Joassaf  Petrovitch  it  was 
like  a  reprieve  after  sentence  of  death. 

"When  may  I  start?"  he  demanded  with  an  excite 
ment  that  was  ill -suppressed.  Baranof  mistook  his 
eagerness  for  bravado  or  contempt.  His  frown 
darkened  and  he  shook  his  open  hand  in  the  other's 
face. 

"To-day,  by  God!"  he  gasped,  "if  it  be  possible— 
and  by  the  bidarka  to-morrow  morning,  if  it  is  not!" 
The  pope's  face  was  radiant  with  the  look  I  had  come 
to  know  as  inspiration,  and  he  bent  his  head. 


The  Way  of  the  North  133 

"I  am  well  content,"  he  said  simply,  "and  I  shall 
surely  go."  He  stepped  backward  as  if  to  bow  himself 
away,  but  he  was  not  to  escape  yet.  Marfa  Alex- 
androvna  had  come  in  time  to  hear  the  last  words 
spoken,  and  touching  him  on  the  arm,  she  stayed  him 
where  he  stood. 

"  What  is  this,  Joassaf  Petrovitch  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 
"Has  my  father  then  given  his  consent?"  The  pope 
was  too  happy  in  having  gained  his  point  to  remain  ill- 
tempered  with  the  world.  He  looked  at  Baranof  and 
at  me  and  then  back  again  at  Marfa  Alexandrovna. 

"He  has  not  only  given  his  permission,  but  he  insists 
upon  the  matter,"  he  said  with  a  whimsical  twinkle  in 
his  eye.  The  girl  looked  from  him  to  her  father  in 
puzzled  inquiry.  A  glance  at  the  condition  of  the 
latter  sufficed  for  understanding,  and  her  face  flushed 
with  her  embarrassment. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "Are 
you  to  go  alone  ? " 

"Yes." 

"It  is  suicide!"  she  exclaimed  with  conviction. 
"But  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  help  you.  I  will  see  that 
you  have  an  interpreter."  The  pope's  eyes  rilled  with 
tears. 

"You  are  good  to  me,"  he  said.  "God  bless  you!" 
and  slipped  quietly  away.  I  was  too  full  of  the  matter 
to  let  him  go  without  having  my  own  say  to  him  about 
it,  and  hurrying,  I  ranged  myself  alongside  of  him  as 
he  walked. 

"Well,  you  have  done  it!"  I  said  contemptuously, 
and  stopped  because  I  could  not  trust  myself  to  further 
speech.  The  pope  turned  his  face  in  my  direction,  but 
the  spell  o-f  his  inspiration  was  upon  him,  and  it  was 


134  The  Way  of  the  North 

almost  as  if  he  did  not  see.  I  do  not  think  that  he 
heard  what  I  said  at  all,  for  when  he  spoke  it  was 
simply  to  let  out  the  thought  that  had  possession  of  his 
mind. 

"Do  you  hear,  Fedor?"  he  cried  exultantly.  "The 
ban  is  lifted  and  I  am  free  to  go." 

"Have  you  no  spirit?"  I  exclaimed,  "that  you  let 
this  man  browbeat  you  and  send  you  out  from  the 
settlement  like  a  whipped  dog  ?"  He  shook  his  head  in 
firm  conviction. 

"It  was  more  than  his  will,"  he  said  with  certainty. 
"He  was  but  the  instrument  to  work  the  matter  out. 
I  know  now  more  clearly  than  before  that  it  is  God's 
hand  that  is  moving  me  to  go."  The  hopelessness  of 
arguing  with  him  struck  me  with  full  force  and  I 
gave  up  the  unequal  fight.  But  down  in  my  heart  the 
opinibn  lay  and  grew  that  it  was  another  hand  than 
God's  that  pushed  him  on. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  house  of  Potap  Burikof  was  the  farthest 
Russian  habitation  to  the  south  from  the  stockade. 
The  walk  thither  from  the  fish-market  was  not  short, 
but  Marfa  Alexandrovna  and  I  made  the  most  of  it 
without  the  passing  of  a  word.  With  both  of  us  the 
thought  was  with  the  pope,  and  my  feeling,  at  least, 
was  not  of  the  sort  to  be  confined  to  silent  wording  in 
the  brain. 

I  saw  that  Marfa  Alexandrovna  was  possessed  not 
alone  by  her  disappointment  in  his  going,  but  also  by 
a  bitter  sense  of  shame  at  her  father's  unwarranted 
display  of  spleen.  She  was  too  proud  to  admit  the 
fact  by  look  or  word,  nor  did  I  speak  of  it;  but  the 
knowledge  was  between  us  and  kept  me  from  setting 
my  own  protest  into  words.  The  heart  was  heavy 
with  each  of  us,  and  it  was  sympathy  rather  than  com 
fort  that  went  in  with  us  through  the  door  of  the  hut. 

The  place  was  a  low  log  structure  of  two  rooms  and 
within,  though  bare,  was  scrupulously  clean.  The 
windows  were  curtained  with  some  bright-coloured 
cloth,  and  the  brass  about  the  ikon  shone  with  a 
brightness  that  betokened  patient  work. 

Marfa  Alexandrovna  opened  the  door  without 
knocking,  as  if  accustomed  to  the  place.  The  floor 
along  one  side  of  the  room  was  raised  as  in  the  Indian 
huts,  and  near  the  centre  of  the  platform  thus  made, 
on  a  mattress  without  covers,  was  an  elderly  woman 

135 


136  The  Way  of  the  North 

lying  on  her  face.  She  was  dressed  all  but  her  feet, 
which  were  bare,  and  her  head  rested  on  her  crossed 
arms  as  a  pillow.  Marfa  Alexandrovna  spoke  to  her, 
and,  with  a  start,  the  woman  swung  herself  up  till  she 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  platform,  regarding  us  with 
confused  and  questioning  looks. 

She  was  a  gaunt  creature,  tall  and  narrow  of  chest, 
and  her  eyes  had  the  sunken  dulness  of  expression  that 
comes  from  grieving  that  is  too  strong  for  tears.  She 
made  a  shy,  deprecatory  movement  as  if  in  explanation 
and  struggled  palpably  to  regain  her  self-control. 

"You  will  not  notice,"  she  said  presently,  and  pulled 
down  her  dress  so  that  it  would  hide  her  feet.  "  I  had 
been  out  for  mushrooms — he  is  fond  of  them — and 
the  grass  was  wet  and  I  was  tired  when  I  came  in." 
She  pointed  to  the  table  where  the  vegetables  lay  in  the 
uneven  heap  that  had  rolled  from  her  basket,  and  at 
the  same  time  cast  an  uneasy  glance  from  us  to  where 
her  stockings  were  drying  on  top  of  the  copper  urn. 
Marfa  Alexandrovna  went  over  to  her  and  sat  down 
by  her  side. 

"Liza,"  she  said  gently,  "I  have  just  been  told. 
Is  it  true  then  that  it  is  so  bad  about  Ignatiy?"  The 
old  woman's  lips  quivered,  but  she  did  not  change  her 
attitude  or  raise  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  it  is  true,"  she  said  apathetically,  and  her 
voice  was  colourless  in  the  intensity  of  her  feeling. 
Marfa's  arms  went  around  her  and  drew  her  close. 

"Oh,  how  can  you  bear  it?"  she  cried  impulsively. 
The  woman's  body  yielded  stiffly  to  the  embrace,  but 
she  showed  no  pleasure  in  it  and  her  hands  remained 
tightly  clasped  in  her  lap. 

"I  am  used  to  it,"  she  said  simply.     "It  is  just  one 


The  Way  of  the  North  137 

thing  more!"  The  girl  clung  to  her  with  strong 
feminine  sympathy. 

"Oh,  it  is  hard!"  she  exclaimed  tremulously.  The 
woman  sat  as  stiffly  as  before,  looking  straight  ahead 
with  her  fierce,  dry  eyes. 

"Do  not  worry  about  me,  panna,"  she  said  wearily. 
"It  is  for  him  that  I  am  afraid."  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
drew  back,  made  a  motion  as  if  to  cross  herself,  and 
looked  at  her  with  startled  inquiry. 

"For  whom?"  she  asked. 

"For  Potap." 

"Oh,"  rejoined  the  Creole,  with  a  gesture  of  relief. 
"Where  is  he?" 

"Yonder,"  said  the  woman,  nodding  toward  the 
other  room.  "Since  the  news  came,  he  has  not 
spoken,  but  only  sits  and  cries." 

"Take  us  to  him,"  said  the  girl  soothingly.  "Fedor 
Kirilovitch  is  a  doctor  and  perhaps  he  can  be  of  use." 
The  woman  made  no  objection,  though  she  displayed 
no  interest  in  the  plan.  Reaching  behind  her  to  the 
wall,  she  drew  from  under  the  mattress  a  pair  of  knit 
shoes  into  which  she  mechanically  drew  her  feet,  and 
rising,  she  went  in  silence  to  the  door  of  the  other 
room,  leaving  us  to  come  after  her  or  not  as  might  seem 
to  us  best.  I  looked  inquiringly  at  the  Creole,  and  she 
nodded  her  head  in  assent. 

"Come,"  she  said  softly,  "we  must  do  what  we  can." 
With  that,  we  followed  after  our  guide,  but  before  we 
had  passed  the  door  she  had  turned  back  and  met  us 
again. 

"Wait,"  she  said,  "he  is  asleep,"  and  we  stopped 
and  stood  looking  by  her  into  the  narrow  room.  The 
man  we  had  come  to  see  sat  in  a  chair  by  the  window 


138  The  Way  of  the  North 

on  the  farther  side.  He  was  a  giant  in  frame  and 
had  the  rare  perfection  of  figure  that  is  so  often  found 
among  the  peasants  of  our  race.  His  hair  and  beard 
were  snowy,  and,  although  he  was  asleep,  his  face 
and  bearing  had  so  much  of  dignity  and  benignance 
in  them  that  involuntarily  I  thought  how  like  he  was  to 
the  pictures  of  God  the  Father  that  the  painters  make. 
I  looked  significantly  at  Marfa  Alexandrovna  and  she 
returned  the  glance  with  one  of  honest  admiration. 

"Is  he  not  beautiful?"  she  said  under  her  breath. 
The  woman  heard  her  and  gave  the  first  sign  of  interest 
I  had  seen  her  display. 

"You  should  have  seen  him  when  he  was  young," 
she  said  wistfully.  "He  was  no  Jew  to  wait  to  be 
handsome  till  his  beard  became  white."  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  saw  her  opportunity  to  say  a  comforting 
word. 

"And  you  have  had  him  all  these  years,"  she  said 
softly.  The  woman's  face  relapsed  again  to  its  apathy 
and  she  leaned  against  the  wall. 

"I  know,"  she  said.  "He  has  been  very  good  to 
me."  Then  with  a  lingering  fear  that  we  should  think 
her  unthankful  for  the  blessings  that  had  come,  she 
added:  "It  will  be  better  when  I  have  slept — if  I 
could  only  sleep!" 

"Has  it  then  been  so  long?"  I  asked. 

"Since  the  tidings  came.  It  is  two  nights  and  a 
day."  Marfa  looked  at  me  in  quick  appeal. 

"You  can  give  her  something,  can  you  not?"  she 
whispered. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "if  you  will  keep  her  quiet  till  it  has 
time  to  take  effect." 

"I  will  do  that,"  she  answered  confidently.    Then 


The  Way  of  the  North  139 

turning  to  the  woman  she  said:  "Liza,  Fedor  Kirilo- 
vitch  is  going  to  give  you  a  sleeping  potion  so  that  you 
can  get  your  proper  rest.  But  when  he  does,  you  must 
lie  down  and  let  me  take  care  of  you  till  you  go  to 
sleep."  The  woman  vouchsafed  the  same  passive 
attention  to  these  words  that  she  had  given  to  what 
had  gone  before,  and  seemed  ready  to  consent.  But 
the  old  care  remained  active  in  her  mind,  for  when  the 
thing  was  mixed  and  brought  to  her,  she  shook  her 
head  and  pushed  it  steadily  away. 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  "I  must  not  drink  it.  There  is 
no  one  to  care  for  Potap,  and  the  mosquitoes  are  fierce 
and  will  disturb  him  in  his  sleep." 

"Drink  it,"  I  urged.     "I  will  look  after  Potap." 

"There  was  a  native  boy,"  she  said,  looking  vaguely 
here  and  there  as  if  in  search  of  him,  "but  I  sent  him  to 
the  post.  You  will  surely  stay  till  he  comes  ?" 

"Yes,  Marfa  Alexandrovna  will  stay  with  you  and 
I  will  not  stir  from  your  husband's  side." 

"Give  me  the  cup,"  she  said  quietly,  and  drained 
the  potion  to  the  dregs.  Marfa  Alexandrovna  per 
suaded  her  to  lie  down  upon  the  bed  and  loosened  her 
clothing  and  covered  her  as  if  for  the  night;  but  not 
before  she  had  seen  me  go  through  to  the  other  room 
and  take  my  station  by  the  man  who  slept. 

There  was  small  interest  to  the  mind  in  the  task  that 
had  thus  come  to  me.  The  man,  tired  out  with  his 
long  bout  with  grief,  slept  quietly  along,  and  the  only 
occupation  to  my  hand  was  to  wield  my  brush  as  occa 
sion  came,  and  between  times  watch  the  women  in  the 
room  outside. 

Marfa  Alexandrovna  had  settled  herself  on  the  plat 
form  by  Liza  Burikof's  side,  and  was  adding  to  the 


140  The  Way  of  the  North 

potency  of  the  sleep-giving  draught  by  gently  and 
continuously  stroking  her  head  and  face.  The  poor 
creature  could  not  wholly  be  still  though  she  strenuously 
tried,  but  tossed  and  tumbled  restlessly  from  one 
position  to  another  and  continually  moaned  and 
sighed.  Finally  she  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and 
rising  up,  caught  the  hand  that  was  stroking  her  in 
both  of  hers. 

"Oh  dearie,  dearie!"  she  said  with  a  sob,  "what 
shall  I  do  ?  "  Marf a  Alexandrovna  yielded  to  the  mood 
and  bent  above  her. 

"Do  nothing,  Liza,"  she  said  soothingly.  "Try  to 
bear  with  it  and  soon  you  will  be  asleep."  The  old 
woman  shook  her  head  so  that  she  threw  back  her  hair. 

"It  is  not  that,"  she  groaned.  "If  that  were  all, 
it  would  not  be  so  hard.  But  after  the  sleep — the 
long  days  and  the  years — oh,  what  am  I  going  to  do?" 
Her  face  set  convulsively  with  the  intensity  of  her 
grief  and  she  made  as  if  she  would  have  risen  to  her 
feet.  Marfa  Alexandrovna  put  her  hands  on  her 
shoulders  and  gently  pushed  her  back. 

"No,  Liza,"  she  said  with  an  air  of  authority,  "you 
must  lie  down  in  the  bed."  Without  resistance,  the 
woman  allowed  herself  to  be  pushed  back,  and  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  threw  her  arm  across  her  body  to  keep 
her  in  her  place. 

"You  must  be  patient,  Liza,"  she  said  with  her 
grave  voice.  "All  these  years  you  have  worked  hard 
and  the  working  has  helped  you  when  you  did  not  have 
to  think.  There  will  still  be  work  for  you  in  the  years 
to  come  if  you  will  but  look  for  it." 

"But  for  whom?"  burst  out  the  woman  bitterly. 
"Before,  there  was  serving  and  caring  for  my  own. 


The  Way  of  the  North  141 

But  now  Potap  will  not  eat  and  I  cannot  see  to  sew, 
and  Ignatiy  is  buried  out  there  somewhere  in  the 
moss  and  will  never  come  in  again  by  the  door  to  give 
me  heart!" 

She  was  silent  again  for  a  time,  and  I  guessed  from 
her  regular  breathing  and  quiet  pose  that  the  draught 
was  beginning  to  have  its  effect.  Then  again  she 
suddenly  opened  her  eyes  and  lay  staring  up  into 
Marfa  Alexandrovna's  face. 

"I  have  had  three  men  to  love,"  she  began  in  her 
monotonous  voice.  "Two  are  dead  and  one  is  near 
death,  and  I  fear  God  means  me  to  outlive  them  all. 
He  might  have  left  me  one!"  she  added  plaintively. 
She  lapsed  again  into  silence  and  was  still  so  long  that  I 
thought  she  surely  must  be  asleep.  Then  in  the 
quiet  she  began  disconnectedly  to  talk  again. 

"Three  men ! "  she  said.  "Three  men ! — and  Ignatiy 
was  so  young!  Why,  it  seems  only  yesterday  that  he 
was  scratching  my  breasts  with  his  little  hands.  You, 
panna,  have  never  had  a  man  of  your  own  and  cannot 
understand.  It  is  trouble  and  care  to  live  with  them 
and  they  are  not  always  kind.  But  it  is  all  one  when 
you  love  them,  and  the  forgiving  is  as  sweet  as  the  rest. 
It  is  the  loving  them  that  counts.  Oh,  panna,  if  it 
ever  comes  to  you  to  have  one  and  he  is  bad  to  you, 
forgive  him  everything,  but  do  not  let  him  go ! " 

Her  voice  had  sunk  lower  and  lower  as  she  went 
on,  and  the  words  had  become  more  indistinct  and  slow, 
and  this  time  when  she  stopped,  nothing  came  to  break 
the  silence,  and  I  knew  she  was  asleep. 

After  a  sufficient  time  Marfa  Alexandrovna  raised 
her  arm  from  the  woman's  shoulders  and  quietly  drew 
away.  She  did  not  rise,  but  remained  seated  on  the 


142  The  Way  of  the  North 

edge  of  the  low  platform,  staring  fixedly  into  vacancy, 
with  her  hands  resting  idly  in  her  lap.  I  do  not  think 
that  she  remembered  me  or  anything  about  her,  so 
absorbing  was  her  thought.  She  sat  thus  for  some  mo 
ments,  and  I  was  careful  not  to  make  a  noise.  Then 
her  head  drooped  and  her  hands  went  up  to  her  face 
and  her  shoulders  began  to  ouiver  with  an  abandon 
ment  of  sobbing. 

I  was  ashamed  thus  to  look  at  her  in  the  nakedness 
of  her  grieving,  for  I  shrewdly  guessed  that  it  was  her 
own  sorrow  rather  than  Liza  Burikof's  that  was  find 
ing  its  vent  in  tears.  A  woman  has  no  stronger  argu 
ment  for  enlisting  sympathy  than  weeping,  and  at  the 
first  drops  I  felt  my  heart  grow  treacherously  weak.  At 
that  moment  if  I  could  have  given  her  the  lover  she 
desired,  I  would  have  thrown  my  scruples  to  the  winds 
and  set  myself  wholesouled  to  do  as  Peter  Nicolaievitch 
wished.  God  knows  the  doing  would  have  brought 
small  strain  upon  my  will.  To  have  Anna  Gregorovna 
for  my  own  was  a  happiness  so  great  I  scarcely  dared 
to  think  it  might  come  true.  But  down  in  my  heart  I 
knew  I  had  the  wish,  and  recognised  guiltily  that  if 
I  countenanced  it  I  could  not  shoulder  the  responsi 
bility  for  it  off  on  Peter  Nicolaievitch's  plan,  but  would 
be  doing  only  what  my  own  heart  impelled. 

The  thing  so  entirely  filled  my  mind  and  revolved  so 
variously  in  my  thought  as  to  how  it  might  be  best 
brought  about  that  I  was  ready  to  welcome  anything  that 
would  seem  to  further  it ;  and  so  it  was  with  a  feeling  of 
satisfaction  as  well  as  surprise  that  I  saw  the  outer 
door  swing  slowly  open  and  Alexei  Yegorovitch  appear 
behind  it  on  the  sill. 

I  could  see  by  his  look  that  the  meeting  was  a  surprise 


The  Way  of  the  North  143 

to  him,  and  that  he  had  not  expected  to  find  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  there.  But  now  that  he  did  see  her, 
much  as  I  knew  he  had  wished  for  the  meeting,  some 
instinct  of  delicacy  held  him  back  from  intruding  sud 
denly  on  her  in  the  abandon  of  her  grief,  and  he  waited 
hesitatingly  on  the  threshold  while  his  resolution  grew. 

"Marfa,"  he  said  finally,  and  his  voice  was  as  plead 
ing  as  a  girl's — "Marfa,  may  I  come  in ?" 

At  the  first  sound  the  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  as  if  in 
sudden  fear.  She  looked  quickly  from  side  to  side  as 
if  seeking  some  avenue  of  escape,  but  in  the  end  thought 
better  of  it  and  defiantly  stood  her  ground.  She  did  not 
answer  him,  however,  but  stood  dumbly,  with  her  head 
drawn  proudly  up,  and  I  saw  her  shoulders  begin  to 
rise  and  fall  with  the  deepness  of  her  breathing. 

The  lieutenant  gathered  courage  from  her  silence 
and  slowly  ventured  in.  He  never  took  his  eyes  from 
her  face,  but  came  steadily  across  to  where  she  stood, 
and  when  he  reached  her,  his  hands  went  out  in  a  sud 
den  gesture  of  appeal.  She  shrank  back  as  if  the  simple 
contact  with  him  were  defilement. 

"Do  not  touch  me,"  she  cried  with  a  scorn  that  was 
almost  horror  in  her  voice.  "  Was  it  not  plain  enough 
I  did  not  want  to  see  you  that  you  must  take  it  upon 
you  to  follow  me  here?"  The  lieutenant  winced  as 
if  she  had  dealt  him  a  body  blow.  His  face  flushed 
and  his  hands  dropped  mechanically  to  his  sides. 

"I  did  not  follow  you,  Marfa,"  he  said  humbly. 
"I  did  not  know  that  you  were  here.  The  Indian  boy 
brought  word  that  help  was  needed;  Peter  Nicolaie- 
vitch  was  away  and  it  was  my  duty  as  next  in  command 
to  come."  The  soft  answer  failed  of  its  proverbial 
effect,  for  Marfa  Alexandrovna  remained  stubbornly 


144  The  Way  of  the  North 

in  the  same  attitude  without  replying  and  turned 
away  her  face.  The  lieutenant  kept  his  distance  ami 
tried  to  wait  patiently  what  she  would  do.  In  the  end 
his  eagerness  mastered  him  and  he  essayed  the  thing 
again. 

"  Will  you  not  speak  to  me,  Marfa  ?  "  he  ventured,  and 
it  was  plain  to  see  that  his  whole  heart  hung  upon  his 
words.  The  girl  steadied  herself  with  an  effort  and 
made  shift  to  reply. 

"  What  is  the  use  ?  "  she  said  without  looking  up.  "  It 
is  all  over,  Alexei.  There  is  nothing  now  to  say." 

"At  least,"  he  said,  "there  is  the  use  that  I  am 
entitled  to  be  heard,  if  only  that  you  may  not  think  me 
so  utterly  a  knave." 

"It  makes  no  difference  now,"  said  the  girl  wearily, 
"and,  if  you  please,  I  would  rather  not." 

"No,"  he  insisted,  "you  shall  listen  to  me.  I  have 
not  been  playing  with  you  all  these  months.  I  was 
honest  in  it  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  Cannot 
you  understand  that  you  are  dearer  to  me  than  anything 
else  on  earth?"  Marfa  Alexandrovna  gave  him  a  hasty 
glance  and  lifted  a  warning  hand. 

"It  is  all  over,  Alexei,"  she  repeated  with  quiet 
earnestness,  and  there  was  a  ring  of  conviction  in  the 
utterance  that  was  .a  death-blow  to  his  hopes.  He  re 
fused  to  accept  it  as  such,  however,  and  went  doggedly 
on:  "It  is  true  that  Anna  Gregorovna  and  I  were 
betrothed  in  Kargopol  and  there  would  seem  to  be  no 
way  in  honour  to  explain  the  fact.  But  she  was  only 
a  child  when  it  occurred  and  I  little  more  than  such. 
I  took  it  with  so  little  seriousness  that  in  the  months 
that  followed  my  coming  here  I  never  once  stirred  my 
self  to  hear  from  her,  nor  did  she  write  to  me.  And— 


The  Way  of  the  North  145 

then  I  met  you.  You  were  a  woman,  not  a  child,  and 
I  learned  the  difference  that  there  could  be.  I  do  not 
believe  that  even  you  doubt  that  in  that  time  I  really 
loved  you;  and  I  could  not  rest  till  I  had  seen  you  again 
and  told  you  that,  in  the  same  old  way,  I  love  you  now." 
The  girl's  face  relaxed  nothing  of  its  hardness  and  she 
looked  at  him  with  involuntary  scorn. 

"And  so,"  she  said,  "you  are  going  to  marry  Anna 
Gregorovna?"  Alexei  Yegorovitch  caught  his  breath 
with  what  was  palpably  a  sob. 

"Oh,  how  can  you?"  he  said  brokenly.  Then 
gathering  himself  with  a  dignity  that  sat  well  upon 
him,  he  went  on:  "You  might  have  known  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  honour  with  me,  not  of  heart.  She 
believed  in  me  and  made  the  journey  friendless  and 
alone  to  come  to  me.  You  yourself  would  not  have  me 
do  less." 

The  girl  did  not  answer,  but  he  must  have  seen  some 
sign  of  relenting  in  her  that  was  not  vouchsafed  to  me, 
for  with  a  sudden  movement  he  was  at  her  side  and 
I  saw  that  he  had  her  by  the  hand. 

"Marfa,"  he  pleaded,  "you  did  love  me  if  you  do 
not  now.  Why  will  you  make  it  harder  for  me  by 
thinking  so  badly  of  me  because  I  am  trying  to  do  what 
is  right?"  She  was  still  silent  and  kept  her  face  from 
him,  but  she  did  not  withdraw  her  hand. 

"Will  you  forgive  me,  Marfa?"  he  asked  again. 
The  unwonted  talking  had  its  effect  on  Liza  Burikof  and 
she  stirred  uneasily  in  her  sleep.  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
gently  withdrew  her  hand  from  the  grasp  of  the  lieu 
tenant  and  went  on  tiptoe  to  her  side.  She  cautiously 
patted  the  covers  here  and  there  and  arranged  them 
carefully  about  the  woman's  face,  and  with  the  return 


146  The  Way  of  the  North 

of  silence  she  relapsed  again  to  perfect  rest.  But 
this  accomplished,  the  Creole  did  not  return  to  where 
she  had  been  before  but  remained  bent  above  the  bed, 
nervously  fingering  the  clothes  and  stirring  herself 
busily  with  a  pretence  of  occupation. 

Alexei  Yegorovitch  stood  and  waited,  gazing  silently 
at  the  floor.  He  looked  up  once  or  twice  to  see  if  she 
were  coming;  and  finally,  noting  that  the  woman  had 
again  become  quiet,  went  softly  across  to  where  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  stood.  She  was  still  busy  with  her  pre 
tended  labour,  and  as  he  came  behind  her  his  arm 
went  caressingly  around  her  shoulders  and  his  head 
bent  till  it  was  almost  touching  hers. 

"O  Marfa,"  he  ejaculated  softly,  and  for  the  first 
time  there  was  a  ring  of  hope  in  his  voice.  "You 
will  forgive  me,  will  you  not  ? "  Even  yet  she  did  not 
respond  to  his  persuasion  but  remained  with  her  face 
hidden  from  him  as  before;  only,  her  figure  stiffened 
at  his  touch  and  her  hands  stopped  picking  at  the  cover 
and  lay  limply  on  the  bed. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment  and  I  can  but  guess  at  the 
bitterness  of  the  struggle  that  went  on  in  her  mind. 
But  a  man's  arm  is  a  strong  persuader  when  there 
is  hunger  at  the  heart,  and  no  doubt  that  the  words  that 
Liza  Burikof  had  spoken  lingered  pregnant  in  her 
thought.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  indecision  ended,  she 
lifted  up  a  face  that  was  flushed  and  wet  with  tears. 

"How  can  I  help  it?"  she  said  as  if  to  herself,  and 
let  him  turn  her  toward  him  till  her  eyes  looked  into  his 
and  she  stood  with  her  breast  against  his  breast. 

He  was  more  shaken  in  his  victory  than  he  had  been 
in  defeat  and  clung  to  her  less  like  a  lover  than  a  child. 
She  accepted  his  weakness  as  a  natural  thing  and 


The  Way  of  the  North  147 

soothed  him  as  simply  as  a  mother  might.  How  far 
he  would  have  pushed  his  vantage  I  shall  never  know; 
for  while  they  stood,  there  came  the  sound  of  voices 
and  a  cautious  rapping  at  the  door. 

The  couple  sprang  apart  and  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
sought  with  hurried  ringers  to  repair  the  disorder  of  her 
hair.  She  sat  down  on  the  platform  by  Liza  Burikof 
and  motioned  to  Alexei  Yegorovitch  to  answer  to  the 
knock.  He  obeyed  and  gave  admittance  to  the  Indian 
boy  and  two  women  of  the  post.  I  saw  there  was  no 
further  need  for  me  and  resolved  to  slip  away  without 
recalling  my  presence  to  the  girl.  Hastily  gathering 
my  belongings,  I  switched  the  insects  for  the  last  time 
from  the  face  of  Potap  Burikof,  and  unlatching  the 
rear  door,  slipped  quietly  outside. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IT  was  pleasant  in  the  open  after  the  closeness  of 
the  little  room.  The  heat  of  afternoon  was  beginning 
to  abate,  and  the  sun  was  so  low  that  the  shadows  lay 
like  long  fingers  pointing  to  the  hills.  I  took  off  my 
hat  and  carried  it  in  my  hand  for  coolness,  and  out  of 
the  quietude  of  the  life  around  me  sought  to  resolve 
my  mind's  disorder  into  peace.  The  experience  of  the 
day  had  tired  me.  There  is  a  strain  in  sympathy  that 
wears  on  one  like  work,  and  no  man's  strength  is  proof 
against  it. 

And  then,  too,  Peter  Nicolaievitch's  plan  hung 
always  like  a  weight  around  my  neck  and  I  could 
think  of  no  one  with  whom  I  could  take  counsel  in 
deciding  on  the  part  which  I  should  take  in  it.  The 
thing  went  as  an  undercurrent  continually  with  me 
as  I  walked,  and  like  a  panorama  there  came  up  before 
me  every  detail  of  the  encounter  between  Alexei  Yegoro- 
vitch  and  Marfa  Alexandrovna. 

But  if  I  were  to  single  out  the  thing  that  spoke  most 
strongly  to  me  in  those  recollections  and  which  stayed 
most  clearly  in  my  mind,  it  would  be  the  insistence  of 
Alexei  Yegorovitch  on  the  fact  that  his  betrothal  to 
Anna  Gregorovna  was  but  a  childish  affair  and  scarcely 
of  the  heart.  It  was  a  satisfaction,  somehow,  to  have 
it  relegated  to  such  time,  especially  as  the  explanation 
served  clearly  as  a  justification  of  the  fact  that  she  had 
fixed  her  choice  at  all  on  such  a  man. 

148 


The  Way  of  the  North  149 

I  thought  of  other  things,  of  course,  and  had  them 
on  my  mind,  but  again  and  again  I  found  myself  coming 
back  to  this  fact  with  growing  satisfaction;  and  when 
I  reached  the  barracks  and  pulled  myself  together  to 
go  in,  as  a  last  word  of  the  day's  adventure,  it  came 
back  to  me  again,  and  I  said  to  myself  under  my  breath 
as  I  went  up  the  steps:  "I  am  glad  that  she  was  so 
young." 

Inside  the  barracks  there  was  anything  but  peace. 
In  our  own  room  the  pope  was  gathering  his  belongings 
for  the  going,  and  Peter  Nicolaievitch  lay  in  wait  for 
me  by  the  outer  door  to  bid  me  to  a  gathering  at  the 
great  house  that  night. 

"It  is  the  commander's  order,"  he  said,  "and  all  the 
post  is  bidden.  There  is  a  bidarshik  here  from  Yakutat 
or  somewhere  in  the  North,  and  the  commander  thinks 
to  astonish  him  with  the  importance  of  the  post."  He 
was  still  cleaning  himself  after  the  labour  of  the  day, 
and  as  he  spoke  he  rubbed  vigorously  with  a  cloth  his 
hair  and  face,  and  dried  his  ears  with  a  brisk  manipula 
tion  of  the  hand. 

"Where  is  Alexei?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

"Somewhere  outside,"  I  answered  vaguely,  for  I  had 
no  thought  to  tell  Peter  Nicolaievitch  the  happenings 
of  the  day.  "I  last  saw  him  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  south  gate." 

"I  wish  he  were  home,"  he  said,  with  a  solicitude 
that  was  fairly  parental.  "It  is  almost  night  and  he 
ought  not  to  be  out  after  the  air  grows  chill."  He 
returned  to  his  ablutions  and  I  went  across  to  my 
room. 

The  pope  looked  up  at  me  absently  from  his  packing, 
but  his  mind  was  full  of  other  things,  and  he  vouch- 


150  The  Way  of  the  North 

safed  no  stated  form  of  greeting.  There  was  yet  ample 
time  for  the  preparation  for  the  function  of  the  evening, 
and  I  determined  to  wait,  since  it  was  convenient,  till 
the  things  that  strewed  the  floor  were  cleared  away. 
So  I  lighted  my  pipe,  sat  idly  down  upon  the  bed,  and 
watched  the  pope  as  he  moved  in  and  out  among  them. 

It  was  a  curious  lot  of  stuff,  if  a  full  list  were  made. 
Of  the  things  for  his  own  use,  the  number  was  noticeably 
few.  The  bulk  of  the  litter  that  filled  the  floor  was 
furniture  for  church  service,  robes  for  the  sacrament, 
a  bell  for  ringing  in  the  wilderness,  and  a  stock  of  sim 
ple  remedies  for  the  healing  of  the  sick. 

There  was  a  heap  by  itself,  made  up  of  bright- 
coloured  cloths,  cheap  ornaments,  and  women's  stock 
ings  and  shoes.  I  picked  up  one  of  these  last  and 
turned  it  in  my  hand.  It  was  small  and  well  made 
and  had  high  and  dainty  red  heels. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  these,  Joassaf,"  I 
asked  curiously.  The  old  man  looked  up  wariJy  at 
me  to  see  if  I  was  in  earnest  or  in  jest.  There  was  a 
shyness  in  his  manner  born  of  the  uncertainty  as  he 
answered:  "It  is  a  concession  to  the  weakness  of 
womankind.  I  thought  perhaps  to  win  some  native 
creature  with  it  where  other  argument  would  be  in 
vain."  Peter  Nicolaievitch,  who  had  completed  his 
toilet,  came  into  the  room  in  time  to  hear  both  question 
and  reply. 

"You  do  not  need  it,  father,"  he  broke  in  dryly.  "In 
this  country  the  native  women  run  after  one  so,  the 
trouble  is  not  to  get  them,  but  to  get  away.  Curiosity 
is  their  cardinal  sin,  and  religion  or  love  it  makes  no 
difference,  they're  hot  for  it  as  long  as  it  comes  with 
the  proper  thrill.  But  by  the  beard  of  St.  Basil,"  he 


The  Way  of  the  North  151 

said  suddenly,  checking  the  oath  with  a  laugh,  "let 
me  see  that  shoe  !  "  He  took  it  in  his  hand  and  turned 
it  critically  from  side  to  side. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  native  woman's  foot  ?"  he  asked 
finally.  The  priest,  with  a  self-conscious  look,  guiltily 
shook  his  head. 

"I  thought  not,"  said  Peter  Nicolaievitch  with  a 
chuckle.  "Why,  man  dear,  there  isn't  a  native  in 
America  could  get  it  on  her  foot.  They  are  born  with 
bigger  feet  than  that!"  He  remained  looking  at  the 
shoe  with  sentimental  interest,  thrusting  his  fingers  into 
the  toe  and  smoothing  the  polished  top  with  his  open 
palm. 

"The  virgin  in  the  church  where  I  was  born  had 
shoes  with  red  heels  like  that,"  he  said  reminiscently, 
"and  I  remember  that  the  first  time  I  saw  a  girl  with 
them  on,  I  thought  she  surely  must  have  stepped  down 
from  a  frame.  But  later  I  found  out  that  that  was 
about  as  far  as  her  similarity  to  the  holy  lady  went.  It 
was  a  girl  with  red  shoes  that  started  me  on  my  journey 
here.  I  kissed  her  in  the  passage  without  stopping  to 
look,  and  her  father  opened  the  door.  In  the  trouble 
that  followed  he  got  hurt,  and  I  thought  it  was  healthier 
to  corne  away."  He  tossed  the  shoe  back  into  the  heap, 
stretched  himself  with  both  arms  and  legs,  sighed 
deeply,  and  turned  to  me. 

"It's  a  queer  world,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  he  said 
soberly,  "and  you  may  see  a  queer  side  of  it  to-night. 
The  commander  has  been  drinking  all  day  with  the 
bidarshik  and  is  as  liable  to  murder  him  as  to  drink 
with  him,  before  the  night  is  through."  Then  a  flash 
of  recollection  came  to  him  and  he  moved  mysteriously 
to  my  side. 


152  The  Way  of  the  North 

"I  came  near  forgetting  what  I  came  for,"  he  said  In 
a  low  voice.  "Alexei  is  here.  He  has  seen  the  lady, 
and  the  matter  is  all  right."  I  was  startled  from  my 
calm,  for  I  had  no  means  of  knowing  what  had  hap 
pened  after  I  had  left  Potap  Burikof's  house. 

"Then  she  will  marry  him?"  I  asked  excitedly. 
Peter  Nicolaievitch  laughed  ironically  and  patted  me 
soothingly  on  the  arm. 

"Oh  no,  man!"  he  said.  "Give  them  time.  But 
she  has  forgiven  him  his  sins  and  wiped  out  the  past, 
and  if  they  are  left  together  it  cannot  help  but  come  out 
as  you  wish." 

I  did  not  like  the  assumption  that  the  plan  was  mine. 
Yet  there  was  satisfaction  in  the  news  and  secretly  I 
knew  that  I  was  glad.  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  fol 
lowing  the  matter  back,  the  conviction  steadily  grew 
upon  me  that  it  was  a  thing  ordained  of  fate.  At  any 
rate,  there  was  an  inevitableness  about  the  movement 
of  it  that  was  keenly  suggestive  of  that  force. 

The  speculation  occupied  me  while  I  made  my  toilet 
for  the  evening  show,  and  lingered  with  me  during  the 
protracted  dinner  hour.  It  was  only  when  I  stepped 
from  the  darkness  into  the  light  and  noise  of  Baranof's 
well-filled  rooms  that  I  was  able  to  shake  off  the  domi 
nation  and  hold  myself  at  peace. 

The  gathering  was  something  worth  while  to  see  in 
that  sparsely  settled  land.  Baranof  must  have  had 
strong  need  to  impress  the  officer  from  the  upper  post, 
for  he  had  gathered  in  well-nigh  all  the  people  of  the 
place.  The  women  were  not  so  many;  but  the  men 
were  decked  out  in  all  the  bravery  of  apparel  that  could 
be  mustered  in  the  post.  The  women  kept  to  the 
upper  end  of  the  room,  but  near  the  door  there  were 


The  Way  of  the  North  153 

tables  set  out  with  pipes  and  tobacco,  and  at  these  the 
bolder  spirits  were  already  playing  cards.  The  greatest 
freedom  prevailed,  and  the  laughter  and  the  talking 
made  a  steady  murmur  in  the  place.  Peter  Nicolaie- 
vitch  and  I  came  in  together,  and  he  stood  beside  me 
as  we  looked  around. 

"Yonder  is  the  commander,"  he  said,  nodding 
toward  the  little  room  which,  on  the  day  of  my  first 
interview  with  him,  had  been  Baranof's  private  place. 
I  looked  as  he  directed  and  saw  that  this  alcove  had 
been  cleared  of  the  desk  so  as  to  give  room  for  the 
function  it  now  served.  Only  a  small  table  had  been 
left  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  at  this  sat  Baranof 
and  a  stranger  whom  I  had  never  before  seen.  There 
was  a  row  of  bottles  between  them  and  they  were 
drinking  from  the  large  glasses  commonly  used  for  tea. 

They  were  evidently  well  along  in  the  orgy  begun  at 
noon,  and  the  bidarshik  was  leaning  with  his  elbows 
on  the  table,  singing  some  sort  of  song.  He  held  up 
his  glass  and  slowly  beat  the  measure  backward  and 
forward.  Baranof  slouched  in  his  chair  with  drunken 
gravity,  and  with  the  pompous  dignity  of  intoxication 
followed  the  rhythm  with  slow  movements  of  his  head. 

"  Did  Alexei  come  ?  "  I  asked  irrelevantly. 

"Of  course,"  said  Peter  with  some  surprise.  "You 
will  find  him  up  there  with  the  women,  I  suspect. 
Suppose  we  get  up  nearer  and  see  which  one  of  his 
chains  galls  him  the  most."  We  picked  our  way 
slowly  among  the  tables,  Peter  stopping  to  banter 
nearly  every  one  he  met.  Twice  we  were  halted  to 
pledge  healths  in  the  tea  the  attendants  continually 
served,  and  it  was  plain  to  see  that  Peter  was  popular 
with  the  men  of  the  command. 


154  The  Way  of  the  North 

"Marfa  has  more  than  her  share,"  he  whispered,  as 
we  reached  the  end — "both  of  the  youngsters  who 
came  with  the  bidarshik  and  as  much  of  Alexei  as  he 
dares  to  give." 

The  girls  sat  some  distance  apart  from  the  others, 
with  Marya  Andreievna  between  them  to  give  them 
confidence.  The  old  lady  was  not  troubled  with 
admirers  and  sedately  sipped  her  tea.  Marfa  had  half 
a  dozen  men  around  her  who  kept  her  busy  with  their 
questioning  and  talk.  There  was  a  trace  of  colour  in 
her  cheeks  and  a  new  light  in  her  eyes,  and  her  spirits 
were  evidently  exuberantly  high. 

Anna  Gregorovna  was  more  alone  and  sat  with  her 
back  to  the  crowded  room.  Alexei  Yegorovitch  stood 
behind  her  and  bent  above  her  as  he  talked.  I  guessed 
that  he  had  chosen  this  point  of  vantage  so  that  without 
suspicion  he  might  be  out  of  Anna  Gregorovna's  line 
of  vision  and  yet  keep  always  in  his  eye  the  face  and 
figure  of  the  girl  he  loved.  Marfa  saw  us  from  afar 
and  gave  us  greeting. 

"Here  is  Peter  Nicolaievitch,"  she  cried  gaily.  "I 
have  my  thanks  to  make  to  you  for  the  great  fish  you 
sent.  They  tell  me  that  you  captured  it  at  the  peril  of 
your  life."  A  shout  of  approval  went  up  from  the 
group  of  men  immediately  about  her,  and  it  was  evident 
that  Peter's  fishing  had  been  the  subject  of  delighted 
comment  with  them  and  that  the  story  had  not  lacked 
for  interest  from  the  way  in  which  it  had  been  told. 

Peter  Nicolaievitch  fell  at  once  into  the  conversa 
tion,  standing  in  defence  of  his  reputation  with  his  cus 
tomary  volubility,  and  I  passed  on  to  where  Anna 
Gregorovna  sat.  As  I  came  to  Marya  Andreievna 
she  bowed  to  me  gravely,  stopped  drinking  her  tea, 


The  Way  of  the  North  155 

and  eyed  me  sidewise  over  her  cup  as  if  expecting  me 
to  speak. 

"I  saw  your  patient,  Burikof,"  I  said  as  I  went  by. 
"It  has  been  a  great  shock  for  the  old  people,  but  I 
think  they  will  safely  come  through."  '  She  considered 
the  information  for  a  moment  with  arrested  head. 

"Grief  does  kill  sometimes,"  she  said,  almost  as  if 
she  had  hopes,  and  began  again  sipping  her  tea. 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  not  thought  of  myself  as 
delaying  or  avoiding  a  meeting  with  Anna  Gregorovna, 
but  now  that  I  was  near  her  I  felt  a  hesitancy  in 
bringing  it  about.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen 
her  since  our  interview  of  the  afternoon,  and  I  feared 
lest  with  the  meeting  should  come  embarrassment. 
There  was  no  avoiding  the  essay,  however,  and  I  trust 
I  went  up  to  her  without  disclosing  what  was  in  my 
mind.  She  greeted  me  gravely  and  without  constraint, 
but  for  an  instant  she  looked  up  with  an  inquiry  in  her 
eyes  that  was  almost  an  appeal.  Her  effort  was  to 
meet  me  with  the  same  candour  as  before,  but  behind 
the  assumption  I  could  not  but  feel  a  difference  in  kind. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  she  said, 
giving  me  her  hand.  "Alexei  has  been  doing  his  best 
but  he  is  not  well  yet,  and  his  wits  seem  to  be  the  last 
thing  to  mend."  She  looked  up  laughingly  at  him  as 
she  spoke,  and  he  glanced  at  me  in  pretended  depreca 
tion. 

"Anna  Gregorovna  is  a  witch,"  he  answered  with  an 
attempt  at  lightness,  "and  gifted  to  read  the  mind. 
Isn't  it  uncanny  to  think  that  she  knows  all  the  time 
what  you  are  thinking  inside  ?  " 

"I  have  seen  Anna  Gregorovna  at  the  weaving  of 
her  spells,"  I  answered  with  what  grace  I  could,  "and 


156  The  Way  of  the  North 

I  have  full  respect  for  her  power.  But  I  would  rath;  r 
her  esteem  for  me  came  from  what  she  reads  and 
thinks  for  herself  than  from  what  my  mouth  is  able  to 
say."  The  girl  blushed  at  the  answer  and  Alexei 
softly  clapped  his  hands. 

"Good!"  he  said,  "Good!  I  did  not  think  you  had 
it  in  you.  I  can  trust  her  with  you  for  a  time.  You 
are  sure  you  will  not  be  bored?"  he  added,  bending  to 
Anna  Gregorovna  with  a  pretence  of  anxiety  in  his 
voice.  She  gave  him  a  little  push  of  impatience. 

"Go,"  she  said.  "We  shall  not  even  miss  you 
while  you  are  away."  He  laughed  and  drifted  in  the 
direction  of  the  group  that  clustered  around  Marfa 
Alexandrovna.  I  drew  up  a  chair  and  beckoned  to  a 
servant  to  bring  me  a  glass  of  tea.  Anna  Gregorovna's 
eyes  still  followed  the  lieutenant,  though  her  attention 
was  ostensibly  given  to  me. 

"What  a  dear  fellow  he  is,"  she  said  almost  wistfully. 
"It  is  so  good  to  see  him  on  his  feet  again."  I  too  was 
watching  Alexei  Yegorovitch  and  made  no  answer  to  her 
remark,  for  just  as  he  reached  Marfa  Alexandrovna  the 
Creole's  attention  was  attracted  by  something  outside 
of  her  immediate  surroundings  and  she  did  not  see  or 
speak  to  him  at  all.  Her  pose  was  one  of  uneasy 
interest.  Bolt  upright,  with  her  head  erect  and  still, 
she  was  gazing  intently  at  what  was  going  on  beyond 
her  in  the  room.  Her  lips  were  slightly  parted  and  un 
consciously,  as  she  looked,  she  moistened  the  upper  one 
with  her  tongue. 

I  followed  the  direction  of  her  eyes  and  saw  that 
Baranof  and  the  bidarshik  had  tired  of  their  seclusion 
and  had  come  out  into  the  room.  They  were  arm  in 
arm  and,  in  the  free  hand,  each  carried  a  bottle  of  wine. 


The  Way  of  the  North  157 

They  were  lurching  slowly  down  the  apartment, 
flourishing  their  bottles  and  inviting  everybody  to  drink 
of  the  liquor  they  contained. 

The  crowd  rose  to  them  with  a  shout  and  gathered 
round  them,  lifting  up  the  glasses  in  which  they  had 
been  drinking  tea.  The  whole  place  was  affected  and 
for  a  moment,  at  our  end  of  the  hall,  we  were  left  prac 
tically  alone.  When  I  looked  back,  Marfa  Alexan- 
drovna  had  risen  to  her  feet. 

"I  think  I  shall  go  in,"  she  said,  with  some  embarrass 
ment,  and  looked  around  to  where  the  other  members 
of  her  household  sat.  Marya  Andreievna  rose  promptly 
from  her  place  and  came  to  where  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
stood,  but  Anna  Gregorovna  was  intent  upon  the  scene 
before  her  and  did  not  seem  to  hear. 

I  thought  I  understood  the  Creole's  sudden  move 
in  that  it  was  not  in  reason  that  a  woman  could  stand  by 
unashamed  while  her  father  thus  played  the  fool,  and 
further,  there  was  that  in  her  face  which  stirred  me  with 
an  undefined  sense  of  fear.  She  waited  a  moment  and 
then  spoke  again: 

"Anna  Gregorovna,  will  you  not  come  with  us? 
We  are  going  up."  The  girl  laughed  reassuringly  and 
shook  her  head. 

"Oh  no,"  she  said,  "not  now.  It  is  all  new  to  me 
and  I  would  rather  stay.  I  will  come  in  a  little  while." 
Marfa  Alexandrovna  was  so  seriously  disturbed  that 
I  went  across  to  where  she  stood. 

"Is  it  really  best  that  she  should  go?"  I  asked  under 
my  breath.  She  stood  silent  a  moment  with  compressed 
lips;  she  was  her  father's  daughter,  and  it  came  hard 
to  her  pride  to  criticise  him  even  for  the  accomplish 
ment  of  this  good. 


158  The  Way  of  the  North 

"  It  may  be,"  she  said  slowly,  and  kept  her  eyes  from 
my  face.  I  went  again  to  Anna  Gregorovna's  side. 

"You  had  better  go,"  I  said  quietly.  "It  would  not 
be  pleasant  after  they  are  gone."  Some  perverse 
spirit  seemed  to  be  possessing  her  and  would  not  let 
her  stir. 

"There  are  other  women  here,"  she  said  coolly. 
"Why  should  I  not  stay?"  The  uneasiness  grew 
within  me  and  for  the  moment  I  lost  my  head. 

"You  must  go,"  I  said  with  a  foolish  assumption  of 
authority.  "It  is  not  safe  for  you  to  stay."  She 
laughed  softly  and  looked  up  at  me  with  half-closed 
eyes. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said  defiantly,  "but  you  forget  that 
I  have  Alexei  here  to-night  and  so  am  not  afraid." 
The  slur  that  lurked  in  her  rebuke  was  needless  and  I 
was  keenly  stung  by  its  unkindness.  She  herself  was 
a  little  frightened  after  she  had  said  it  and  looked  with 
guilty  eyes  to  see  how  I  took  it. 

"Very  well,"  I  said  with  as  much  dignity  as  I  could 
muster.  "I  have  no  more  to  say,"  and  I  dropped 
back  so  as  to  leave  her  to  herself.  But  I  stayed  near 
enough  at  hand  to  have  an  eye  upon  her  and  to  be  of 
ready  help  to  her  in  case  there  should  be  need.  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  and  her  aunt  had  seized  their  opportunity 
and  disappeared,  and  Alexei  Yegorovitch  came  back  to 
Anna's  side. 

The  uproar  in  the  room  grew  louder,  for  as  soon  as  the 
bottles  which  the  two  dispensers  held  grew  empty,  they 
called  for  more  and  went  on  pouring  out  the  wine.  So 
long  as  they  stayed  in  that  portion  of  the  hall  there 
was  no  pressing  danger.  There  was  noise  and  singing 
and  a  shadow  of  coarse  talk,  but  the  thing  was  a  drink- 


The  Way  of  the  North  159 

ing  bout  pure  and  simple  and  no  worse  than  I  had 
witnessed  many  times  before. 

But  novelty  even  in  such  matters  is  the  sting  that 
gives  the  zest,  and  as  Baranof  and  his  companion 
skirted  round  the  fringes  of  the  revelers  near  the  centre 
of  the  hall,  his  eyes  wandered  in  our  direction  and  he 
grasped  joyously  the  new  idea. 

"The  women  !"  he  said,  looking  reproachfully  at  the 
bidarshik,  "they  have  had  nothing  yet !"  He  dropped 
his  companion's  arm  and  catching  a  glass  from  the 
table  reeled  unsteadily  to  where  the  nearest  woman 
stood. 

She  was  palpably  afraid  of  him  and  shrank  back; 
but  the  awe  in  which  she  held  him  as  commander  of 
the  post  prevented  her  from  carrying  out  her  evident 
wish  to  run  away.  He  bowed  to  her  with  exaggerated 
politeness,  poured  from  the  bottle  into  the  glass,  and 
tendered  her  the  wine.  She  took  it  with  some  hesitation 
and  raised  it  to  her  lips.  When  it  was  drunk,  she 
handed  back  the  glass  and  made  a  courtesy  of  thanks. 
But  she  was  not  to  escape  so  easily,  for  Baranof  caught 
her  boldly  around  the  waist  and  kissed  her  audibly  on 
either  cheek.  Then  turning  to  the  bidarshik,  as  if 
it  had  been  a  show,  he  signified  that  the  chance  was  his 
as  well. 

The  man  was  not  slow  in  using  his  advantage  and 
added  an  extra  touch  to  his  salute  by  kissing  the  woman 
fairly  on  the  mouth.  She  struggled  and  pushed  back 
from  him,  her  face  as  red  as  the  kerchief  around  her 
neck,  and  faring  free,  made  haste  to  hide  herself  among 
the  crowd.  By  this  time  Baranof  had  found  another 
victim,  and  was  carrying  out  his  programme  as  before. 
Those  around  fell  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  and 


The  Way  of  the  North 

followed  on,  applauding  freely  each  new  conquest 
added  to  his  list. 

Some  of  the  women  took  it  philosophically  and  sub 
mitted  in  patient  silence  to  the  rough  embrace,  but 
others  screamed  and  fought  as  their  strength  permitted ; 
and  one  indignant  girl,  to  the  joy  of  the  lookers-on, 
gave  the  bidarshik  so  resounding  a  slap  upon  the  face 
that  he  blinked  and  gasped  and  was  well-nigh  sobered 
for  the  time.  The  men  to  whom  the  women  belonged 
looked  on  in  surly  silence,  but  so  strong  was  the  fear 
of  the  commander  when  he  was  in  his  cups  that  no 
one  of  them  dared  to  interfere,  but  looked  on  helplessly 
in  bitterness  and  shame  at  the  insults  to  their  women- 
kind. 

Anna  Gregorovna  at  the  first  gazed  on  the  scene  with 
keen  enjoyment,  but  as  the  fooling  became  more 
boisterous  she  became  more  grave  and  when  the  two 
old  reprobates  began  their  service  to  her  sex  I  saw  her 
look  uneasily  around  and  finally  speak  to  Alexei  Yegoro- 
vitch  with  an  evident  mind  to  go.  But  before  she 
reached  decision,  her  opportunity  had  passed.  The 
only  way  by  which  escape  was  possible  lay  through  the 
door  well  down  the  other  side,  and  the  roistering  crowd 
already  covered  it. 

Alexei  Yegorovitch  got  her  to  her  feet,  and  screening 
her  as  much  as  might  be,  edged  quietly  around  the 
crowd,  hoping  to  shun  notice  in  the  mad  confusion  and 
so  win  safety  into  haven  unaddressed.  I  joined 
them  as  they  passed  and  stationed  myself  on  the  girl's 
other  side.  She  did  not  speak,  but  gave  me  a  quick 
look  of  repentant  gratitude  as  I  came. 

For  a  time  the  plan  seemed  likely  of  success,  for  we 
made  in  safety  the  great  part  of  the  way;  but  just  as 


The  Way  of  the  North  161 

I  made  sure,  there  was  a  swift  upheaval  in  the  crowd,  it 
opened  suddenly  in  our  direction  and  a  woman,  stronger 
or  more  obdurate  than  the  rest,  broke  from  Baranof's 
embrace  and  fled  wildly  by  us  through  the  open  door. 

Balked  of  his  prey,  Baranof  stood  in  surly  silence 
looking  keenly  here  and  there  in  search  of  some  other 
victim  on  whom  to  lay  his  hand.  He  was  stooped  and 
panting  with  the  stress  of  his  exertions,  and  his  eyes 
shone  with  the  fire  of  excitement  that  was  like  the 
look  of  the  insane.  He  knew  us  on  the  instant,  and 
with  the  cunning  of  the  drunkard  fathomed  at  once 
the  thing  we  were  about. 

"  Not  yet ! "  he  said,  stepping  quickly  between  us 
and  the  door.  "  Oh  no,  not  yet ! "  and  began  pouring 
out  the  liquor  from  his  bottle  to  the  glass.  Anna 
Gregorovna  watched  him  as  if  fascinated  but  said  not 
a  word.  Only,  when  the  glass  was  filled  and  the  com 
mander,  raising  it,  paused  to  look  over  its  brim  at  her 
with  his  sneering  smile,  she  began  to  tremble  violently, 
and  I  saw  her  hand  reach  slowly  out  behind  her  and 
grope  about  for  mine.  I  caught  it  firmly  and  my  heart 
gave  a  great  leap  up,  for  I  recognised  that  consciously 
or  unconsciously  it  was  to  me,  and  not  to  Alexei  Yegoro- 
vitch,  that  she  had  turned  in  her  need. 

The  lieutenant's  mind  worked  faster  than  mine  and 
he  stepped  briskly  forward  between  the  commander 
and  the  girl. 

"Give  it  to  me,  Alexander  Andreievitch,"  he  cried 
with  his  infectious  laugh.  "I  have  not  had  a  drop  from 
you  to-night."  Baranof  looked  at  him  suspiciously  for 
a  moment,  the/i  with  drunken  gravity  waved  him 
ponderously  away. 

"Ladies    first,"    he    said    sternly.     "Stand    aside!" 


1 62  The  Way  of  the  North 

The  lieutenant  persisted  in  his  interference  and  tried 
to  take  the  cup,  and  Baranof  lost  at  once  his  self-control. 

"Stand  aside!"  he  thundered  in  his  big  voice.  "Am 
I  not  to  be  master  even  in  my  own  house  ?  "  He  made 
a  sweeping  swing  with  the  arm  that  held  the  bottle  and 
Alexei  Yegorovitch  went  staggering  backward  into  the 
crowd.  The  men  in  it  were  silent  and  had  gathered 
round  us  to  see  what  would  come  next.  The  wine  in 
the  glass  was  mostly  spilled,  but  there  was  enough  left 
for  the  commander's  purpose  in  carrying  out  his  will. 
He  came  close  to  Anna  Gregorovna  with  the  same  evil 
smile. 

"Panna,"  he  said,  with  exaggerated  deference,  "you 
will  drink  to  mine  and  the  Company's  health?"  She 
looked  back  at  me  inquiringly  and  clung  tighter  to  my 
hand. 

"Drink  it,"  I  whispered,  "it  is  the  easiest  way." 
She  took  the  glass  mechanically,  made  formal  thanks 
and,  swallowing  with  difficulty,  drank  the  small  measure 
of  liquid  it  contained.  I  could  see  the  purpose  growing 
in  Baranof  to  take  her  as  he  had  taken  the  others  in 
his  arms,  so,  as  she  finished,  I  leaned  forward  and  laid 
my  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Do  not  touch  her,"  I  said  in  a  low  voice,  but  dis 
tinctly  enough  for  him  to  hear.  "I  give  you  fair 
warning  now."  He  glared  at  me  in  speechless  amaze 
ment,  and  the  light  in  his  eyes  blazed  brighter  as  his 
irritation  grew. 

"How  long  since  you  became  commander  here?" 
he  demanded  with  a  sneer.  "I  will  have  no  distinc 
tions  between  people;  and  this  woman  shall  be  treated 
like  the  rest.  And  mark  you,"  he  added,  shaking  his 
finger  at  me  to  give  malevolent  emphasis  to  his  words, 


The  Way  of  the  North  163 

"if  you  so  much  as  raise  a  finger  to  prevent  it,  I'll 
have  you  whipped  so  sure  as  I  have  you  in  my  hand!" 
He  made  a  quick  movement  forward  and  would  have 
caught  Anna  Gregorovna  by  the  waist,  but  she  was 
alert  and  avoided  him  by  a  sudden  change  of  place,  and 
before  he  could  recover  himself  I  struck  him  fairly 
between  the  eyes  and  he  went  sprawling  backward 
on  the  floor. 

There  was  a  gasp  of  astonishment  from  the  crowd 
that  was  like  the  deep  intaking  of  a  breath,  and  there 
was  not  a  face  that  did  not  look  at  me  with  more  or 
less  of  fear.  Baranof  lay  for  a  second  as  if  stunned, 
then  he  turned  himself  slowly  over  and  got  clumsily  to 
his  feet.  I  improved  the  interval  to  speak  to  Alexei 
Yegorovitch. 

"  Get  her  away,"  I  said  hurriedly.  "  I  will  stay  and 
see  the  matter  out."  Anna  Gregorovna  looked  at  me 
piteously  and  seemed  inclined  to  wait,  but  the  lieu 
tenant  gave  her  no  time  to  think,  and  before  the  com 
mander  regained  his  feet  I  saw  them  pass  to  safety 
through  the  door. 

I  turned  again  to  Alexander  Andreievitch,  expecting 
nothing  but  that  he  would  come  at  me  with  a  rush,  but 
the  blow  had  sobered  him  to  a  point  this  side  discretion 
and  he  kept  outside  the  limit  of  my  arm. 

"Peter  Nicolaievitch,"  he  called  with  the  promptness 
of  a  military  command,  "detail  a  file  of  men  to  take  this 
man  in  charge.  I  said  if  he  interfered  he  should  be 
whipped,  and  I  will  be  as  good  as  my  word.  See  that 
he  has  ten  lashes  at  daylight  to-morrow  morning  and 
afterward  report  to  me."  There  was  an  ugly  swelling 
growing  on  his  forehead  where  the  blow  had  come  and 
he  felt  of  it  tenderly  as  he  spoke.  When  he  was  done, 


1 64  The  Way  of  the  North 

he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  walking  unsteadily  passed 
from  sight  into  the  inner  room.  Peter  Nicolaievitcb 
remained  behind,  and  his  face  was  a  study  as  he  came 
up  to  me. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  he  asked  helplessly,  and  his 
eyes  were  fairly  full  of  tears. 

"It  is  not  your  fault,"  I  said  comfortingly.  "You 
will  need  no  guard.  I  will  go  with  you  without  the  use 
of  force." 

I  linked  my  arm  in  his  and  started  with  him  down 
the  hall.  The  crowd  stood  back  respectfully  as  we 
passed  and  made  no  comment,  even  of  a  word.  They 
were  cowed  by  the  show  of  authority  and  the  swiftness 
with  which  the  punishment  had  come ;  but  I  myself  was 
not  so  much  cast  down,  for  I  still  felt  in  mine  the  touch 
of  Anna  Gregorovna's  hand  and  knew  that,  whatever 
came  to  me,  she  would  understand. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THEY  say  that  when  men  come  to  die  it  is  the 
onlookers,  not  the  passing  souls,  that  fear  and  suffer 
pangs.  Yet,  by  the  same  measure,  it  goes  current  that 
when  a  man  stops  short  of  death,  but  comes  to  open 
shame,  he  himself  is  unsparing  in  self-accusation,  while 
that  his  friends  are  strong  to  minimise  the  wrong  and 
pass  the  matter  by.  But  this  to  me  is  not  a  sound 
philosophy.  Not  all  men  die  with  comfort  in  their 
souls,  and  here,  in  my  own  case,  where  shame  had 
surely  come,  I  do  not  think  I  found  myself  so  grieved 
or  fearful  as  did  the  friends  and  intimates  around  me. 

There  was  not  much  said  on  either  side,  and  I  am 
sure  I  made  no  open  lamentation.  But  there  was  a 
depression  in  the  air  of  them  that  fixed  the  status  of  the 
thing  at  serious  gravity,  and  listening  to  their  talk  I 
began  to  feel  much  as  I  imagine  a  dead  man  must 
who  is  being  dressed  and  straightened  by  his  friends 
against  his  burial. 

Peter  Nicolaievitch  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
in  anxious  self-communion,  and  when  a  particular 
phase  of  recollection  proved  too  much  for  him,  he 
swore  beneath  his  breath.  The  pope  said  not  a  word, 
but  sat  beside  me  with  his  hand  on  mine  and  listened  to 
our  council  with  an  air  of  such  distress  that,  had  I  not 
already  felt  my  own  misfortune,  his  look  would  quite 
have  made  me  sorry  for  myself. 

There  had  been  no  talk  of  confinement,  nor  any  show 

165 


1 66  The  Way  of  the  North 

of  force.  When  Peter  Nicolaievitch  and  I  left  the 
great  house,  we  had  taken  our  way  to  the  barracks  as 
naturally  as  if  it  had  been  a  simple  going  home.  We 
both  knew  there  could  be  no  full  escape  for  a  prisoner 
in  this  land,  for,  granted  he  fared  free,  there  was  no 
place  except  through  journey  on  the  sea  where  he  could 
find  a  seasonable  and  proper  sanctuary.  Beyond  the 
settlement  all  was  wilderness  and  desolation,  and  a 
man  would  need  before  him  the  knowledge  of  a  keener 
punishment  than  mine  to  make  him  choose  the  venture 
as  a  fair  alternative. 

So  we  sat  in  my  room  in  the  accustomed  way  and 
I  at  least  harboured  a  sense  of  growing  anger  with  the 
needless  foolishness  of  it  all.  We  were  scarcely  in  the 
house  when  Alexei  Yegorovitch  came.  As  quickly  as 
might  be,  he  had  escorted  Anna  Gregorovna  to  a  place 
of  safety  and  hastened  blithely  back  to  lend  a  hand  at 
the  final  resolving  of  the  fray;  but  the  hall  was  cleared 
and  Baranof  was  gone,  and  only  stopping  to  learn  the 
outcome  of  the  clash,  he  had  followed  us  straightway 
home.  He  was  still  keyed  to  the  enthusiasm  of  the  fight 
he  had  not  had,  and  his  talk  was  caustic  and  belligerent. 

"It  was  fine!"  he  said  joyously,  as  he  wrung  me  by 
the  hand.  "I  should  have  struck  him  myself  if  you 
had  not  been  so  quick.  And  the  lump  on  his  face, 
Peter!  Did  you  see  the  lump?"  Peter  Nicolaievitch 
growled  an  inarticulate  assent  that  took  some  time  to 
settle  into  words. 

"But  the  salve  for  it,  man,"  he  said  ruefully.  "Who 
is  to  pay  for  the  salve  to  bring  it  down  ? "  Alexei 
Yegorovitch  refused  to  be  depressed. 

"Nonsense!"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "It  is  only  till 
to-morrow.  Alexander  Andreievitcb  when  sober  never 


The  Way  of  the  North  167 

holds  against  a  man  the  thing  done  to  him  while 
drunk." 

"  But  the  time  set,  man,"  Peter  Nicolaievitch  answered 
with  a  groan.  "It  is  the  time!" 

"What  is  the  time?" 

"Daybreak  to-morrow  morning."  The  lieutenant's 
face  grew  suddenly  grave  and  he  whistled  softly  to 
himself. 

"Is  there  no  one  who  would  dare  to  wake  him  up?" 
he  asked  thoughtfully,,  Peter  Nicolaievitch  shook  his 
head. 

"You  know  there  is  not,"  he  said  drily,  "and  if  there 
were,  his  temper  would  be  worse  than  it  is  to-night." 
Alexei  Yegorovitch  was  silent  for  a  space,  preoccupied 
with  thought.  When  he  spoke  it  was  with  the  air  of 
having  settled  the  matter  to  his  satisfaction. 

"Why  not  omit  the  whole  thing?"  he  suggested 
cheerfully.  "The  old  man  will  never  rise  in  time  to 
find  it  out."  Peter  Nicolaievitch  fairly  snorted  his 
refusal  of  assent. 

"Yes,  and  have  Mashoff  standing  by  his  door  before 
breakfast-time  to  tell  him  of  it  when  he  awakes!  Be 
sides,  it  would  be  bad  for  discipline." 

"But  this  is  a  special  case,"  urged  the  lieutenant. 

"The  Company  has  some  rights,"  returned  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  doggedly,  "and  the  men  all  saw  it  done." 
He  turned  on  me  with  a  querulous  note  of  irritation  in 
his  voice. 

"Damn  you!"  he  said,  "if  you  had  to  hit  him, 
why  couldn't  you  wait  till  the  bidkrshik  was  gone 
back?"  Again  Alexei  was  silent  in  thoughtful  calcu 
lation. 

"We  must  go  at  it  from  the  other  side,"  he  said 


1 68  The  Way  of  the  North 

finally,  with  an  air  of  conviction.  "Whose  business 
will  it  be  to  use  the  lash,  Mikhail  Etolin's  ?  " 

"No,  Arseni  Kuznetzofs.     Mikhail  Etolin  is  away." 

"A  new  man,"  said  Alexei  Yegorovitch  musingly, 
"but  I  suppose  he  can  he  reached." 

"There  it  is  again,"  broke  out  Peter  Nicolaievitch 
with  his  show  of  anger.  "It  was  Kuznetzofs  wife  that 
the  little  lady  cast  the  spell  upon  when  Fedor  Kirilo- 
vitch  was  with  her  on  the  ship,  and  the  man  has  a 
grudge  against  him  for  it  that  is  dearer  than  his  life." 

"That  makes  no  difference,"  said  Alexei,  with  de 
cision.  "He  will  have  to  forswear  himself  for  once. 
Come  with  me,  Peter,  and  we  will  fix  the  whole  matter 
up." 

They  went  out  together,  leaving  the  pope  and  me 
seated  by  the  fire.  I  did  not  care  to  talk,  and  Joassaf 
Petrovitch  was  too  full  of  sympathy  to  know  quite  what 
to  say.  So  we  sat  in  silence  and  found  our  comfort 
in  our  pipes.  I  suppose  I  was  not  properly  impressed 
by  the  peril  I  was  in.  The  gravity  of  it  sat  upon  m6 
lightly,  simply  because  I  had  never  before  come  afoul 
of  the  law  in  such  matters  and  had  no  standards  by 
which  to  gauge  my  fear.  Besides,  the  blow  had  been 
a  just  one  and  I  had  confidence  in  my  friends.  If  the 
worst  came  to  worst — though  I  had  no  certain  expecta 
tion  of  it — I  firmly  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  take 
my  punishment  like  a  man. 

It  was  ten  minutes  at  least  before  a  word  was  spoken. 
Then  I  saw  the  pope  looking  at  me  through  the  cloud 
of  smoke  that  filled  the  room  as  if  he  would  ask  me 
something  but  did  not  clearly  see  his  way. 

" Well,"  I  said,  "what  is  it  ? "  He  accepted  the  ques 
tion  as  an  invitation  and  spoke  up  with  an  air  of  relief. 


The  Way  of  the  North  169 

"Fedor,"  he  said  shyly,  "you  struck  the  commander 
and  they  say  that  it  was  a  proper  thing — but  do  I  know 
why  the  blow  was  struck?"  I  looked  at  him  in  some 
astonishment. 

"You  heard  them  say,"  I  answered,  "that  it  was  to 
prevent  the  commander's  making  free  with  Anna 
Gregorovna,  who  came  over  with  us  on  the  ship." 
He  nodded  his  understanding,  but  was  not  yet  at  peace. 

"Yes,  but  what  interest  had  you  in  the  matter  if  he 
did?" 

"I  trust,"  I  said  hotly,  "that  I  would  not  stand  by  and 
see  any  woman  wronged."  He  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  and  setting  the  tips  of  his  fingers  together,  looked 
thoughtfully  across  them  at  the  fire. 

"I  know,"  he  said  softly,  "but  was  there  no  further 
reason  ?  You  did  not  strike  him  when  the  other  women 
suffered  wrong."  I  had  not  thought  to  search  the 
matter  for  its  philosophy  and  was  not  prepared  to 
answer  out  of  hand,  so  I  met  his  question  with  another 
one  and  said: 

"  You  mean,  I  suppose,  that  I  care  especially  for  the 
girl  ? "  He  did  not  change  his  attitude  or  lift  his  eyes. 

"Y-yes,"  he  said  tentatively,  still  looking  steadily 
into  the  fire.  I  considered  a  moment  before  answering, 
and  he  waited  patiently  for  me  to  speak. 

"Well,"  I  said,  with  a  show  of  frankness  I  did  not 
altogether  feel,  "what  wrong  is  there  in  it  if  I  do?" 
The  instinct  of  the  priest  made  him  ready  instantly 
with  his  reply. 

"The  wrong  that  the  woman  belongs  already  to 
another  man." 

It  startled  me  to  find  him  turning  back  on  me  the 
argument  I  had  advanced  to  Peter  Nicolaievitch  as  a 


170  The  Way  of  the  North 

reason  for  not  joining  in  his  plan,  but  it  also  brought  to 
my  lips  in  answer  the  philosophy  of  that  individual 
which  had  proved  more  potent  with  me  than  my  own. 

"It  is  surely  no  harm  to  think  it,  if  it  is  carried  to  no 
wrong.  One  is  not  blamable  for  what  one  feels." 

"That  is  a  mistake,"  said  the  old  man  earnestly. 
"It  is  not  enough  to  be  simply  pure  at  heart.  To  dis 
regard  conventions  is  dangerous,  if  nothing  more." 

"But  she  is  not  married,  and  why  is  it  wrong,  if  I 
think  my  chance  good,  to  want  her  for  myself?"  The 
pope's  face  flushed  sensitively  as  if  what  I  had  said  was 
improper  for  him  to  hear. 

"I  am  an  old  man,"  he  said  simply,  "and  have 
perhaps  lost  sympathy  with  youth,  but  to  me  it  seems 
a  crime  to  think  of  such  a  thing." 

"Go  back,"  I  persisted,  "to  the  time  when  you  were 
young.  You  have  been  married  and  know  how  a  man 
feels  toward  the  girl  he  would  make  his  wife.  Would 
you  have  stood  aside  because  another  wanted  her  as 
well?" 

The  pope  was  silent  for  full  a  minute,  his  whole 
mind  groping  in  the  past  I  had  so  suddenly  summoned 
up.  He  gave  himself  so  wholly  to  the  recollection  that 
he  seemed  like  one  bound  in  a  trance.  As  particular 
memories  proved  more  vivid,  his  face  worked  spas 
modically  with  the  force  of  his  emotion  and  he  whispered 
brokenly  to  himself;  but  presently  the  trend  of  his 
recollection  brought  him  naturally  round  to  the  ques 
tion  I  had  asked,  and  he  answered  me  as  if  there 
had  been  no  interval  at  all. 

"With  God's  help,  I  did — and  she  went  from  me," 
he  said  solemnly.  "I  have  never  been  a  married 
man," 


The  Way  of  the  North  171 

"How  can  that  be,"  I  burst  out  in  amazement,  "for 
surely  you  have  been  ordained  ?" 

"I  know  the  rule,"  he  answered  quickly,  "but  mine 
is  the  exception  that  makes  sure  the  proof.  When  I 
came  to  my  ordination,  the  bishop  as  usual  chose  for 
me  a  wife.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  priest  and  I 
had  known  her  as  a  child.  I  had  loved  her  and  wanted 
her,  and  it  was  heaven  to  me  when  her  father  pledged 
to  me  her  hand.  She  was  a  good  girl,  and  promised  as 
he  wished,  but  before  the  day  came  it  transpired  that 
she  had  only  liking  for  me,  not  love,  and  that  her 
heart  was  centred  on  another  man."  He  paused  for  a 
moment  to  regain  his  self-control,  and  my  sympathy 
went  out  to  him,  for  I  knew  how  bitter  the  memory  of 
it  all  must  be. 

"Well,"  he  said  with  a  sigh,  "she  went  away  with 
him — but  I  had  come  through  my  trials  and  the  bishop 
made  a  special  dispensation  and  allowed  me,  single,  to 
enter  on  my  work." 

There  is  a  deadly  sinking  of  the  heart  that  comes 
when  one  hears  suddenly  some  treachery  to  a  friend, 
and  listening  to  his  pitiful  story  I  felt  the  thing 
grip  me  underneath  my  ribs.  It  seemed  so  use 
less  that  one  so  guileless  and  kind-hearted  as  the 
pope  should  have  come  to  feel  the  pinch  of  such  a 
sorrow,  that,  hearing  it,  my  thought  rose  up  instinc 
tively  in  opposition. 

"By  God,"  I  said,  "you  were  well  out  of  it!"  But 
the  pope's  hand  went  up  in  protest  and  he  sat  suddenly 
bolt  upright. 

"No,  no!  Oh  no!"  he  cried  with  earnestness  that 
was  almost  pain.  "It  was  I  if  anyone  who  was  to 
blame.  She  came  to  me  honestly  with  the  truth,  and, 


172  The  Way  of  the  North 

God  helping  me,  I  let  her  go.  When  she  went,  I  my 
self  helped  her  to  steal  out  unobserved." 

"And  you  have  never  married  since?" 

"No,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  shake  of  his  head, 
"I  could  not  if  I  would.  The  betrothal  was  counted  as 
a  marriage  in  giving  me  the  robes,  and  you  know  we 
are  not  allowed  to  marry  twice."  He  let  himself  back 
again  into  his  chair  and  took  the  time  to  regain  his 
serenity  of  mind.  I  too  was  silent,  not  alone  from 
delicacy,  but  because  I  really  did  not  know  what  to  say. 
When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  with  a  return  to  his 
ordinary  voice. 

"It  proved  itself  right  in  the  end,"  he  said  simply, 
"for  she  has  been  always  happy,  and  I  myself  did  not 
lose  everything,  for  the  memory  has  been  very  dear. 
It  has  indeed  been  not  only  a  memory  but  an  inspiration. 
I  could  not  marry,  and  the  thought  of  her  has  stood 
like  a  wall  between  me  and  the  other  thing  from  then 
till  now.  It  is  because  I  know  the  strength  of  being 
pure  toward  women,  that  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  of 
your  affair  before  I  went  away.  I  have  been  clean," 
he  said  with  conscious  pride,  his  voice  rising  exultantly 
in  his  conceit  of  sweet  self-righteousness,  "and  the 
thought  of  it  has  always  been  a  strength.  It  is  the 
justification  of  my  judgments  where  need  comes  in 
my  work  and  the  one  thing  that  assures  me  of  my 
fitness  in  it  and  my  consecration.  If  I  should  lose  it, 
I  could  not  stay  in  the  ministry  a  day.  You,  Fedor, 
have  a  different  life,  but  the  same  cleanness  will  bring 
the  same  help  to  you.  I  love  you,"  he  said  shyly, 
rising  and  coming  to  my  side,  "and  I  know  you  will  let 
me  warn  you — if  there  is  need." 

He  bent  above  me  with  such  fatherly  solicitude  and 


The  Way  of  the  North  173 

laid  his  hand  so  pleadingly  on  mine  that  I  was  glad  that 
I  could  look  back  at  him  with  honest  eyes. 

"My  hands  are  clean,  Joassaf,"  I  answered  with  a 
smile.  "Would  it  make  the  matter  better  for  you  if 
I  told  you  that  the  girl  cares  more  for  me  than  she  does 
for  the  man  to  whom  she  is  betrothed  ? " 

"Has  she  told  you?"  he  demanded  sharply.  "How 
do  you  surely  know?" 

"No,  she  has  not  told  me,"  I  replied  honestly.  "At 
least  she  has  not  told  me  so  in  words,  but  down  in  my 
heart  I  know  that  it  is  so,  and  that  is  the  justification  I 
have  in  my  pursuit.  And  there  is  another  factor  you 
have  missed:  the  man  to  whom  she  is  betrothed  cares 
less  for  her  than  he  does  for  another  girl."  The  pope's 
eyes  kindled  with  the  confessor's  interest  in  a  secret, 
and  he  looked  at  me  with  growing  understanding  in  his 
face. 

"Marfa  Alexandrovna  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"Yes."  He  was  silent  a  moment  while  he  thought 
the  matter  out. 

"  I  understand,  I  think,"  he  ventured,  speaking  more 
to  himself  than  to  me.  "It  is  no  wonder  she  was  dis 
turbed."  He  returned  to  his  chair  and  I  waited  for 
further  question,  but  none  came. 

"Well,"  I  said  finally,  "are  you  satisfied  that  there  has 
been  no  wrong?"  He  looked  up  at  me  from  his 
reverie  with  real  wistfulness. 

"You  will  surely  marry  her,  Fedor?"  he  asked. 

With  a  sudden  glow  of  feeling,  for  I  had  never  before 
acknowledged  definitely  to  myself  that  I  really  hoped 
to  make  her  mine,  I  answered: 

"Yes,  if  she  will  come  to  me,  I  surely  will."  The  old 
man  smiled  radiantly  and  held  out  his  hand. 


174  The  Way  of  the  North 

"I  am  sorry  I  misjudged  you,"  he  said  humbly. 
"The  love  of  a  good  woman  is  a  precious  thing." 

We  both  went  back  to  our  meditations  and  our 
pipes,  and  there  was  silence  between  us  until  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  and  Alexei  Yegorovitch  returned.  They 
came  in  heavily  and  without  speaking,  and  their  sullen 
depression  and  downcast  looks  proclaimed  that  their 
mission  had  not  found  success.  The  pope  was  the 
first  to  break  the  silence. 

"Did  you  see  the  man?"  he  asked  with  anxious 
eagerness. 

"Yes,  we  saw  him!"  said  Peter  Nicolaievitch  with  a 
growl.  He  volunteered  no  further  information,  and  it 
was  with  more  timidity  and  only  after  a  seasonable 
waiting  that  the  pope  ventured  to  speak  again. 

"  Did  he — er — refuse  to  do  what  you  wished  ?  " 

"It  is  that  trouble  about  his  wife,"  broke  in  Alexei 
Yegorovitch  irritably.  "The  man  is  bitter  beyond 
belief.  We  promised  him  money  or  anything  he  liked 
— even  to  the  getting  Anna  Gregorovna  to  take  off  the 
spell — but  the  best  we  could  do  was  the  promise  that  he 
would  be  as  easy  as  his  conscience  would  permit;  and 
that  we  got  by  the  threat  that  if  he  hurt  you,  the  charm 
would  work  and  his  wife  would  have  another  seizure 
before  night.  From  what  I  know  of  the  woman,"  he 
added  with  growing  satisfaction,  "if  he  tells  her  what  I 
said,  I  believe  she  will." 

"You  will  get  at  least  one  blow,"  said  Peter  Nicolaie 
vitch.  "Aside  from  his  malice,  the  man  is  honestly 
convinced  that  the  sentence  must  be  carried  out  and 
he  will  stand  for  one.  As  for  the  rest,  it  will  depend 
on  what  he  thinks  he  can  afford  to  do.  He  would  like 
to  give  them  all  to  you  if  he  could," 


The  Way  of  the  North  175 

"Well,"  I  said,  "you  have  certainly  done  what  you 
can,  and  I  do  not  see  anything  else  for  it  now  but  to 
make  the  best  of  it  and  go  to  bed." 

Peter  Nicolaievitch  and  the  lieutenant  steadily 
demurred  and  would  have  stayed  with  me  throughout 
the  night,  but  there  are  times  when  sympathy  is  worse 
than  solitude,  and  after  several  attempts  I  drove  them 
out.  The  pope  made  no  further  proffer  of  commisera 
tion  or  regard,  and  we  both  undressed  and  went  quietly 
to  bed. 

I  did  not  readily  drop  off  to  sleep.  Alone  with  my 
problem  in  the  dark,  it  took  hold  of  me  as  it  had  not 
done  in  the  light.  I  was  not  afraid  of  the  punishment 
that  was  to  come,  nor  did  it  once  weigh  on  me  as  a 
disgrace;  but  in  the  bravest  men  there  is  an  honest 
nervousness  born  of  the  contemplation  of  pain  that  is 
to  come.  It  is  not  a  thing  that  saps  determination  or 
makes  less  strong  the  action  of  the  will.  But  like  a 
heartsickness,  it  hangs  lead-weighted  on  one's  peace 
of  mind  and  makes  it  difficult  to  rest  or  sleep. 

Yet  in  it  all  I  do  not  think  I  cursed  myself  that  the 
trouble  had  occurred.  It  is  a  fool  thought,  I  suppose, 
for  a  man  so  old  to  have  a  thrill  in  having  done  a  senti 
mental  service  to  a  girl,  but  when  I  thought  how  at  the 
threat  of  harm  her  hand  crept  out  and  sought  about  for 
mine,  I  would  have  risked  a  second  jeopardy  to  have 
it  done  again. 

It  was  a  dark  night  and  still,  and  the  smoke  cloud  M 
the  room  kept  even  the  mosquitoes  from  their  wonted 
noise.  The  pope  had  promptly  fallen  into  sleep  and 
I  could  hear  his  long-drawn,  even  breathing  from  his 
bed.  As  the  air  cooled  in  the  room,  the  rafters  sprang 
and  cracked,  the  noise  of  them  coming  sharply  in  the 


1 76  The  Way  of  the  North 

silence  like  reports  of  guns.  I  tossed  and  turned  and 
could  hold  no  position  long.  I  essayed  to  count,  and 
racked  my  brains  to  find  some  new  jumble  of  repeated 
words  to  bring  the  monotony  that  would  summon  sleep. 
I  must  have  found  it  somewhere,  though  I  know  not 
when  it  came;  for  suddenly,  when  I  remembered,  it 
was  growing  gray  about  the  window  and  I  heard  Ptttr 
Nicolaievitch  stirring  in  his  room.  I  sat  up  in  bed  and 
rubbed  my  eyes  to  clearer  sight.  Then  I  put  on  my 
clothes  and  dashed  my  face  with  water  till  I  was  full 
awake.  As  I  finished,  the  door  opened  and  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  came  softly  in. 

"Good!"  he  said  when  he  saw  that  I  was  dressed. 
With  a  voice  pitched  low  lest  he  should  wake  the  pope, 
he  asked  me  to  go  out  into  the  eating-room  beyond. 
Here  he  had  set  out  a  bottle  and  two  glasses  and  a  plate 
of  bread.  He  poured  out  a  glass  of  vodka  for  himself 
and  a  larger  one  for  me. 

"Drink  it  all,"  he  said  authoritatively,  and  his 
manner  was  that  of  one  who  has  done  a  wrong  and 
seeks  to  make  amends.  "It  will  make  you  strong  to 
bear  it;  but  do  not  eat  much  bread.  The  strain  brings 
sickness  when  the  stomach  is  too  full."  He  did  not  look 
at  me,  but  went  about  with  his  eyes  cast  down  as  if  in 
some  way  he  was  responsible  for  the  trouble  I  was  in. 
I  drank  the  liquor  at  one  draught,  but  the  bread  lacked 
taste  and  lingered  drily  in  my  throat.  When  I  had 
done,  he  got  to  his  feet  and,  still  with  his  back  toward 
me,  said  impersonally: 

"It  will  be  sun-up  in  ten  minutes,"  and  started  for 
the  door.  I  followed  him  briskly,  for  though  my  cour 
age  was  down  in  the  lowest  depths,  I  would  not  for  the 
world  have  had  him  think  that  I  was  afraid. 


The  Way  of  the  North  177 

"Alexei  Yegorovitch  was  up  and  coming  with  us," 
he  said  at  we  passed  out,  "but  I  thought  you  would 
prefer  to  go  alone." 

"  You  were  right,"  I  assented.  "There  is  no  need  for 
other  lookers-on."  We  walked  in  silence  till  the 
buildings  had  been  passed  and  we  came  out  on  the 
south  meadow  where  I  had  talked  with  Anna  Gregor- 
ovna  the  day  before.  The  place  of  punishment  was  on 
its  eastern  edge,  and  there,  by  the  post  erected  for  this 
need,  I  saw  Arseni  Kuznetzof  and  two  other  men  already 
waiting  for  us  in  the  growing  light.  Peter  Nicolaievitch 
looked  at  them  with  gathering  disgust. 

"  Damn  Baranof ! "  he  said  between  his  teeth.  "This 
is  a  business  I  do  not  like." 

The  men  stirred  themselves  as  we  came  up  and  the 
two  guards  stood  at  attention  in  deference  to  Peter 
Nicolaievitch's  rank.  Arseni  Kuznetzof  did  not  look 
at  us  or  speak,  but  busied  himself  with  unwinding  the 
long  bundle  that  contained  his  whips. 

I  was  fascinated  by  his  movements  and  stood  at  some 
paces'  distance  and  watched  him  as  he  worked.  He 
went  about  the  matter  with  a  studied  coolness  and, 
when  the  things  were  free,  tried  the  thongs  one  after 
another,  stretching  the  lashes  and  measuring  them  along 
the  stocks  and  finally  laying  them  in  order  on  the  ground. 

From  the  time  we  reached  the  place,  Peter  Nicolaie 
vitch's  manner  had  changed.  He  was  no  longer  the 
man,  but  the  officer  of  the  guard.  He  returned  the 
salute  of  the  soldiers  and  went  over  to  where  Arseni 
Kuznetzof  stood. 

"Is  all  ready?"  he  asked  sharply,  and  his  words  had 
the  precision  of  a  military  command.  Kuznetzof  as 
sented  with  an  inclination  of  the  head.  Peter  Nicolaie- 


178  The  Way  of  the  North 

vitch  had  evidently  hoped  for  another  answer  and  his 
face  fell.  At  the  end  of  his  expedients,  he  delayed  the 
punishment  till  he  could  make  a  last  appeal. 

"Come  here,  Kuznetzof,"  he  said  with  a  backward 
jerk  of  his  head  in  my  direction.  "I  want  to  talk  to 
you."  He  returned  to  where  I  stood  and  the  man 
slouched  sullenly  after  him.  When  he  stopped,  the 
fellow  halted  in  front  of  him  and  stood  looking  up  at 
him  with  defiant  eyes.  Peter  Nicolaievitch's  face 
flushed  with  a  sudden  anger,  but  he  held  the  feeling 
down  and  spoke  in  his  ordinary  official  tone. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "have  you  made  up  your  mind? 
What  are  you  going  to  do?"  The  man  hung  down 
his  head  and  did  not  answer,  but  Peter  Nicolaievitch 
waited  without  further  question,  and  at  length  the 
fellow  found  the  silence  more  embarrassing  to  him  than 
speech. 

"The  order  was  made,"  he  ejaculated  slowly, 
without  lifting  up  his  head.  Peter  Nicolaievitch's 
face  hardened,  but  he  still  retained  his  self-control. 

"You  understand  the  case,  Arseni,"  he  said  with  such 
persuasion  as  he  could  command.  "The  blow  was 
given  in  a  just  cause,  and  you  know  as  well  as  I  that  if 
this  thing  is  held  until  Baranof  is  himself  again,  he 
will  be  the  first  to  order  it  not  done.  He  did  it  in  Eto- 
lin's  case  not  later  than  last  month." 

The  man  looked  up  at  him  and  seemed  about  to 
answer  as  Peter  wished,  but  in  an  evil  moment  his 
glance  fell  on  me  and  his  face  darkened  into  its  old 
expression  of  malevolent  dislike. 

"It  is  the  order,"  he  said  stubbornly,  and  would  say 
no  more.  He  stood  for  a  respectful  interval  as  if 
awaiting  Peter  Nicolaievitch's  command,  but  re- 


The  Way  of  the  North  179 

ceiving  none,  turned  slowly  to  where  his  whips  were 
lying  by  the  post.  Peter  Nicolaievitch  checked  him 
for  a  last  appeal. 

"One  moment,"  he  said.  "You  have  thought 
clearly  what  the  effect  of  this  will  be  upon  your  wife?" 
Kuznetzof  stopped,  and  a  contraction  as  if  of  pain 
went  across  his  face.  He  drew  up  his  shoulders  and 
his  hands  went  out  in  passionate  contradiction. 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  he  declared.  "It  has  been 
ordered!"  I  was  ashamed  we  should  thus  coerce  the 
man  from  what  he  thought  was  right. 

"Let  him  alone,  Peter,"  I  interjected  sharply;  and 
then  turning  to  the  man — "Kuznetzof,"  I  said,  "there 
is  no  truth  in  that  last  matter.  If  you  follow  out  your 
orders,  no  harm  will  come  from  it  to  your  wife." 

The  man  remained  looking  at  me  in  dazed  suspicion 
and  crossed  himself  vigorously  once  or  twice.  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  stood  obe 
diently  back. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "Have  it  your  own  way."  I 
walked  across  to  where  the  others  stood  and  began  to 
remove  my  coat. 

"Come,"  I  said,  "let  us  get  it  over  as  quickly  as  may 
be."  I  stripped  to  the  waist  and  took  the  position 
shown  me  at  the  post.  Kuznetzof  held  up  the  bar  to 
allow  me  to  insert  my  wrists,  and  dropped  and  bolted 
it  upon  them  without  vouchsafing  me  a  word.  With 
the  same  cool  air  of  unconcern  he  rolled  up  his  sleeves, 
and  selecting  a  whip,  took  up  his  station  at  my  back. 
Peter  Nicolaievitch,  too,  drew  back  till  he  was  out  of 
sight. 

"Are  you  ready?"  he  asked  huskily. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  and  bent  down  my  head.     I  felt 


i8o  The  Way  of  the  North 

rather  than  saw  that  Kuznetzof  stepped  back  and 
raised  the  knout.  There  was  a  distinct  stir  as  he 
lifted  himself  on  his  toes  and  stretched  to  his  full  length 
to  reach  the  maximum  of  his  stroke,  and  I  heard  the 
sudden  intake  of  his  breath.  Then  like  a  living 
thing,  the  whip  came  down  and  caught  me  all  along 
the  back. 

It  was  not  at  all  what  I  had  supposed  the  touch  of  a 
lash  would  be,  and  I  had  to  grip  hard  on  myself  to  keep 
from  crying  out.  Each  separate  thong  settled  on  me 
in  a  seamy  line  that  burned  like  fire  and  remained 
fresh  and  stinging  after  the  knotted  cords  had  all  been 
drawn  away. 

Kuznetzof  waited  long  enough  to  let  me  experience 
to  the  full  the  exquisite  torture  of  the  pain,  and  then 
stepping  to  the  other  side,  so  that  the  change  of  position 
would  lay  the  stripes  in  new  and  different  lines,  he 
raised  the  whip  and  brought  it  down  again. 

Even  then  I  managed  not  to  cry  outright,  but  in 
voluntarily  my  body  writhed  and  cringed  under  the 
blow,  and  I  felt  myself  go  sick  as  death  with  the  sudden 
agony.  Again  there  was  the  pause,  and  in  it  I  heard 
Peter  Nicolaievitch's  warning  voice. 

"Remember,  Kuznetzof,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 
had  in  it  the  ringing  menace  of  command,  "go  on  with 
this  cursed  work  if  you  like,  but  if  you  do,  I  myself  will 
see  to  it  that  you,  if  not  your  wife,  shall  pay  for  it  to 
the  full.  So  take  care  what  you  do!" 

The  words  seemed  only  to  strengthen  the  bitterness 
of  the  man,  for  he  had  evidently  made  up  his  mind  to 
go  through  with  the  thing  and  take  the  consequences. 
With  an  inarticulate  snarl  he  turned  himself  to  his  task 
and  raised  his  whip  with  the  evident  intention  of  striking 


The  Way  of  the  North  181 

me  again.  I  cowered  as  low  as  my  taut  arms  would  let 
me  and  braced  myself  to  meet  the  horror  that  was  to 
come. 

I  waited  and  waited,  the  seconds  seeming  hours, 
but  the  blow  did  not  descend.  There  was  an  exclama 
tion  from  the  guards,  a  commotion  of  feet  behind  me, 
and  the  sound  of  a  sudden  fall.  I  gathered  courage  to 
look  around  and  saw  Arseni  Kuznetzof  lying  on  the 
ground  with  Peter  bending  over  him  and  tearing  wildly 
at  his  throat. 

My  first  thought  was  that  he  had  interfered  to  stop 
the  blow,  but  a  second  glance  showed  me  that  the  man 
had  fallen  in  some  sort  of  a  fit  and  that  Peter  Nicolaie- 
vitch  was  rendering  such  aid  as  seemed  suited  to  the 
case.  The  man's  mouth  was  drawn  to  one  side,  his 
hands  were  cramped,  and  his  feet  beat  an  involuntary 
tattoo  upon  the  ground.  The  guards  looked  on  in 
horror  and  made  no  attempt  to  help.  My  instinct  as  a 
doctor  brought  me  to  myself. 

"Open  his  neck,"  I  said,  when  I  could  get  my  self-' 
control.  "Lay  him  with  his  head  low  so  his  throat 
will  fill  with  air."  Peter  Nicolaievitch  looked  up  from 
where  he  knelt  and  motioned  to  the  guards. 

"Undo  the  bar,"  he  commanded,  "and  let  the  man 
out."  But  neither  one  would  risk  approach  to  me. 
They  crossed  themselves,  and  it  was  plain  that  they 
conceived  the  fit  to  be  in  some  way  my  doing  and  in 
answer  to  Peter  Nicolaievitch's  demand.  With  an 
oath,  he  got  to  his  feet  and  did  the  thing  himself.  I 
did  not  realise  that  I  was  so  spent,  but  my  hands,  set 
free,  slipped  laxly  from  the  hollows,  and  I  slid  down  in 
a  heap  at  the  bottom  of  the  post. 

"Do  not  mind,"  I  said,  as  he  proffered  help.     "I 


1 82  The  Way  of  the  North 

shall  be  better  as  soon  as  I  am  less  faint."  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  was  as  tender  as  a  girl. 

"He  shall  suffer  for  this,"  he  said  indignantly,  as  he 
stroked  ray  head;  then  he  added  under  his  breath,  "Do 
you  suppose  the  girl  really  had  anything  to  do  with  his 
having  this  fit?" 

"Go,"  I  returned,  "I  want  to  be  alone.  Take  the 
guards  and  carry  Kuznetzof  in.  I  will  follow  as  soon 
as  I  have  strength." 

"Do  not  hurry,"  he  said  sympathetically,  "I  will 
arrange  things  for  you  at  the  house."  He  straightened 
himself,  called  the  guards,  and  set  them  to  lift  Arseni 
Kuznetzof  from  the  ground.  He  was  limp  again  and 
began  to  show  signs  of  conscious  life.  They  got  him 
up  between  them  and  disappeared  with  him  in  the 
direction  of  the  fort,  Peter  Nicolaievitch  looking 
anxiously  back  at  me  at  intervals  until  they  were  fairly 
out  of  sight. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

FOR  some  time  after  I  was  left  alone  I  was  content 
yet  to  be  still.  Then  as  the  sting  and  faintness  left  me, 
I  sat  up  cautiously  and  took  stock  of  the  plight  that  I 
was  in.  The  keenness  of  the  pain  in  my  back  had 
lessened,  but  as  I  reached  up  with  my  hand  I  could 
feel  that  the  flesh  had  risen  in  great  welts  across  it,  and 
in  one  place,  where  the  skin  was  broken,  my  finger-tips 
grew  wet. 

I  reached  out  mechanically  for  my  clothes,  and  with 
no  little  pain  and  hardship  got  into  them  one  by  one. 
The  effort  tired  me,  and  I  sat  for  a  space  to  rest.  Finally 
the  impulse  quickened  and  grew  strong  to  get  myself 
to  home  and  bed,  and  with  some  difficulty  regaining 
my  feet,  I  got  slowly  under  way.  The  motion  helped 
me  and  my  head  became  more  clear,  and  with  the  clear 
ness  came  the  desire  to  avoid  such  stragglers  of  my  kind 
as  might  be  early  out,  and  to  gain  the  barracks  and  my 
chamber  unobserved. 

Fortune  favoured  me  entirely  at  the  start,  but  as  I 
reached  the  edge  of  the  meadow  nearest  the  stockade 
— the  place  where  yesterday  I  had  stood  with  Anna 
Gregorovna  and  the  child — I  was  aware  of  someone 
moving  in  the  shadow  just  ahead,  and  stepped  aside 
until  whoever  it  was  should  pass.  But  no  one  came, 
and  after  waiting  a  moment  I  set  out  again.  Once 
more  I  saw  the  person  a  little  farther  on,  among  the 

'83 


184  The  Way  of  the  North 

trees,  and  this  time  I  perceived  it  was  a  woman  standing 
in  the  way. 

It  was  only  a  question  of  time  when  I  must  face  the 
whole  pack  in  the  place,  and  there  could  be  small  com 
fort  in  delay.  I  made  up  my  mind  on  the  spot  that  the 
sooner  it  began  and  ended  for  me  the  better,  and  pluck 
ing  up  my  courage,  I  went  steadily  ahead.  The  figure 
remained  where  I  had  seen  it,  as  if  awaiting  my  ap 
proach,  and  as  I  came  nearer  I  caught  a  something  in 
the  outline  that  was  familiar  to  me,  and  so  recognised 
that  it  was  Anna  Gregorovna  who  lingered,  and  knew 
that  she  was  waiting  there  for  me. 

She  was  well  back  in  the  shadow  and  made  no  effort 
to  meet  me  as  I  came.  The  air  of  bird-like  lightness 
that  was  her  most  common  trait  was  for  the  moment 
lacking,  and  she  stood  to  wait  for  me,  a  shrunk,  black 
figure  with  drooping  head,  and  hands  clasped  in  front 
of  her  in  pathetic  interrogation. 

My  first  thought  on  seeing  her  was  one  of  pleasure, 
and  I  felt  a  thrill  of  pride  that  she  should  have  cared 
sufficiently  to  come.  But  I  was  yet  too  shaken  physi 
cally  to  give  heed  to  much  beyond  the  desire  for  rest, 
and,  even  as  it  came,  the  sensation  of  joy  gave  way  to 
a  dull  feeling  of  discomfort  that  even  she  should  come 
between  me  and  the  quiet  of  sanctuary  that  I  sought. 
Then,  too,  my  conscience  told  me  dimly  that  it  was  not 
fair  to  meet  and  talk  with  her  when  we  were  labouring 
underneath  such  stress. 

But  though  it  was  discomfort  chiefly  that  lay  behind 
the  thought,  the  effect  upon  my  action  was  the  same. 
I  did  not  want  to  see  her,  and  when  I  reached  the  point 
of  the  path  where  Anna  Gregorovna  stood,  I  turned 
my  head  away  and  went  stolidly  along.  However,  it 


The  Way  of  the  North  185 

was  not  to  be  as  I  designed.  Before  I  was  well  past 
her  I  heard  her  sob,  and  in  another  minute  she  called 
me  by  my  name. 

"Fedor — Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
was  tremulous  with  the  stress  of  her  emotion.  "Will 
you  not  even  speak  to  me  ?"  I  stopped  at  once,  turned 
back  to  where  she  stood,  and  answered  her  with  apolo 
getic  gentleness. 

"Forgive  me,"  I  said,  "I  had  no  meaning  to  disturb 
you,  but  I  am  sick  somewhat  and  very  tired  and  I  for 
got  myself  in  my  eagerness  to  be  home."  She  did  not 
seem  to  hear  me,  but  stood  with  her  eyes  fixed  straight 
before  her,  and  her  whole  consciousness  absorbed  by 
what  was  on  her  mind. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  and  her  voice  was  almost  a 
whisper — "oh,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,  I  saw  it  all!" 

She  swayed  slightly  forward  and  would  have  fallen 
if  I  had  not  caught  her  with  'a  steadying  hand.  Her  lips 
were  without  colour  and  there  was  no  blood  in  her 
face.  The  faintness  that  follows  the  seeing  of  revolting 
things  was  strong  upon  her,  and  so  deeply  had  the 
horror  fixed  upon  her  mind,  that  for  the  moment  she 
was  scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  did. 

"Do  not  think  about  it,"  I  said  soothingly.  "It  is 
over  now  and  there  is  no  need  for  grief."  She  paid  no 
attention  to  my  words  but  looked  fixedly  at  my  fingers, 
and  reaching  out,  grasped  me  suddenly  by  the  wrist. 

"You  are  hurt! "  she  declared,  and  her  voice  had  the 
sibilant  thrill  of  tragedy.  "There  is  blood  upon  your 
hand ! "  I  smiled  at  her  intensity  and  drew  the  offend 
ing  member  from  her  grasp. 

"It  is  not  vital,"  I  said  with  as  much  lightness  as  I 
could  assume.  "It  was  the  breaking  of  the  skin  where 


i86  The  Way  of  the  North 

the  lashes  crossed  that  made  it.  I  touched  it  with 
my  hand  in  putting  on  my  clothes."  She  shuddered 
and  remained  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  me  in  the  same 
dull  fascination. 

"Poor  back!"  she  said,  and  reaching  across  my 
shoulder,  touched  it  lightly  with  her  hand.  "And  I 
was  the  cause  of  it!"  she  went  on  in  keen  self-accusa 
tion.  "If  I  had  been  content  to  go  when  Marfa  Alex- 
androvna  urged  me,  it  would  not  have  come  about." 

"Do  not  grieve,"  I  said  again.  "It  is  over  now  and 
it  is  best  to  forget  that  it  occurred.  It  was  a  mistake, 
your  coming  out  this  morning.  The  thing  was  not  fit 
for  you  to  see." 

"I  had  no  choice,"  she  cried.  "There  was  no  other 
way.  Since  I  heard  of  it  last  night  I  have  had  no  peace 
of  mind.  I  had  done  you  wrong,  and  in  the  dark  I 
could  not  sleep  and  this  morning  I  could  not  eat.  There 
was  no  rest  for  me  till  I  came  to  you  and  told  you  I  was 
at  fault."  She  paused  uncertainly  and  I  began  again  to 
speak  in  deprecation  of  her  distress,  but  it  was  very  real 
to  her  and  she  strenuously  refused  to  hear  it  lightly  met. 

"It  was  not  alone,"  she  said  shamefacedly  and 
choosing  her  words  as  if  she  did  not  quite  know  what 
to  say,  "that  I  was  foolish  about  going  and  so  brought 
the  trouble  on,  but  when  you  warned  me  I  spoke  to 
you  as  if  you  were  a  coward  and  I  thought  you  were 
afraid.  It  is  of  that  I  am  ashamed.  Will  you  believe 
me,"  she  said,  raising  her  eyes  suddenly  and  looking 
me  bravely  in  the  face,  "when  I  tell  you  that  when  I 
said  it  I  did  not  think  of  you  that  way?  It  was  only 
that  I  was  vexed  for  the  moment  that  you  should  inter 
fere,  and  I  let  my  feeling  into  unkind  words." 

She  was  still  confused  by  the  faintness  that  had  come 


The  Way  of  the  North  187 

upon  her,  and  as  she  spoke  she  put  out  her  hands 
unsteadily  to  support  herself,  and  rested  them  against 
my  breast.  Her  eyes  were  wide  with  entreaty,  and 
before  she  finished  speaking  I  saw  them  fill  with  tears. 
Had  she  been  nothing  to  me,  I  could  not  but  have  for 
given  her,  and  as  it  was,  her  self-abasement  touched 
me  to  the  quick. 

"Dear  heart,"  I  said,  and  covered  her  hands  with 
mine,  "did  I  not  tell  you  yesterday  that  I  love  you? 
How  then  could  I  so  misunderstand  you  ?  "  Her  face 
flushed  red  at  the  answer  and  her  eyes  went  down ;  but 
she  made  no  move  to  draw  away  from  me  and  did  not 
take  away  her  hands. 

"I  thank  you,"  she  said  with  some  embarrassment. 
"I  do  not  deserve  that  you  should  be  so  good  to  me 
when  I  can  give  you  so  little  in  return." 

"But  you  do  give  something? "  I  demanded. 

"Yes,"  she  said  softly,  after  a  little  pause. 

"That  is  enough,"  I  cried  jubilantly.  "You  have 
given  me  a  hope  that  will  keep  me  glad  till  I  come  back 
to  you  again." 

"Back?"  she  echoed  in  quick  alarm.  "You  have 
not  thought  to  go  away  ? " 

"What  place,"  I  answered,  "is  there  here  for  a  man 
discredited  as  I  have  been  ? "  Again  her  lips  began  to 
tremble  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  "and  it  is  I  who  have  made  the 
need  for  you  to  go."  My  confidence  grew  strong  within 
me  and  I  felt  it  prick  me  fiercely  to  try  the  matter  now. 

"There  is  the  way  out,"  I  answered  boldly,  "that 
you  should  make  the  need  for  me  to  stay."  She  was 
silent  for  the  moment  and  then  looked  up  at  me  with 
shining  «yes. 


i88  The  Way  of  the  North 

"So  far  as  I  am  free  to  ask  it,"  she  said  with  earnest 
ness,  "you  know  I  would  not  have  you  go." 

"But  that  is  not  enough,"  I  persisted.  "The  only 
thing  that  would  hold  me  to  remain  would  be  that  I 
could  have  you  wholly  for  my  own."  She  turned  away 
her  face  and  made  as  if  she  would  have  drawn  away  from 
me,  but  I  would  not  let  her  go.  When  she  spoke  it  was  to 
avoid  the  question  and  throw  herself  upon  my  gene 
rosity  by  direct  appeal. 

"Why,"  she  entreated,  "do  you  ask  for  that  which 
you  know  I  cannot  grant  ?  " 

"You  can  grant  it,"  I  insisted  positively.  "It  is 
a  question  of  the  wish,  not  of  the  power."  She  pushed 
back  from  me  to  the  full  length  of  her  arms. 

"I  cannot,"  she  said  piteously.  "You  know  I  have 
given  my  word.  It  is  something  you  must  not  ask."  I 
hardened  my  heart  and  pushed  her  relentlessly  to  the 
wall. 

"Then  you  are  content  to  let  me  go?"  She  quailed 
visibly  but  still  had  courage  to  reply. 

"If  needs  must,"  she  said  faintly.  "There  is  no 
other  way."  I  felt  my  assurance  drop  blankly  to  the 
ground.  I  had  been  so  certain  of  success  that  I  had 
risked  upon  a  single  throw,  and  now  there  came  to  me 
the  blunt  conviction  that  in  so  doing  I  had  been  over 
sure.  I  cursed  myself  for  having  so  roughly  driven 
matters  to  a  head;  but  the  will  stayed  grimly  with  me 
to  see  the  thing  out  to  the  end,  and  I  set  myself  to  save 
all  the  salvage  possible  from  the  wreck  of  my  desire. 

"Tell  me,"  I  said,  "do  you  say  this  because  you  ought 
to,  or  because  you  do  not  care  ?  "  Either  she  distrusted 
her  composure  or  was  uncertain  in  her  thought,  for  to 
the  question  she  would  answer  not  a  word. 


The  Way  of  the  North  189 

"Anna,"  I  persisted,  "I  am  going  away  from  you 
and  here — even  if  it  is  not  the  better  thing — there  can 
be  no  harm  in  my  knowing  the  whole  truth.  Will  you 
tell  me,  if  only  for  remembrance  sake,  whether  your 
heart  is  open  toward  me  and  whether  you  would  be 
content  to  come  to  me  if  it  were  not  that  you  are  bound  ?" 
Still  she  did  not  answer  and  steadily  looked  down. 

"Tell  me!"  I  repeated,  shaking  her  hands  to  em 
phasise  the  demand.  She  looked  up  quickly  at  me  and 
as  instantly  looked  away;  but  not  before  I  had  read  the 
answer  in  her  eyes. 

"I  do  care,"  she  said  almost  inaudibly,  "and  if  I 
were  free  to  come  to  you,  I  would  be  content." 

"God  bless  you!"  I  cried  impulsively  and  throwing 
prudence  to  the  winds  I  caught  her  boldly  in  my  arms. 
For  a  moment  she  was  passive  and  gave  herself  to  the 
embrace;  then  she  remembered  and  struggled  to  be 
free. 

"Oh  no,  no!  You  must  not!"  she  cried  breathlessly 
and  pushed  me  back  with  her  hands.  I  was  ashamed 
that  I  had  forgotten  myself  and  freely  let  her  go. 

"Forgive  me,"  I  said  humbly.  "The  temptation 
was  more  than  I  could  bear."  She  was  not  angry,  but 
once  clear  of  me  stood  looking  anxiously  around. 

"Go,"  she  said  pleadingly.  "I  could  not  bear  that 
we  should  be  seen  together  here  alone."  I  would 
have  spoken  further  but  she  was  resolutely  silent  and 
turned  away  her  head.  So  I  left  her  standing  in  the 
shadow  and  took  my  way  back  toward  the  post. 

I  suppose  a  sorrier  figure  of  a  lover  seldom  thus 
parted  company  with  his  maid.  In  ordinary,  my  car 
riage  is  sufficiently  erect  and  I  affect  a  decent  neatness 
in  my  dress;  but  now  my  back  was  stiffened  with  the 


igo  The  Way  of  the  North 

pattern  of  a  whip,  my  hair  dishevelled,  and  my  legs  so 
weak  that  my  walk  was  only  an  unseemly  drag.  But 
I  do  not  believe  that  daintier  lover  ever  felt  a  greater 
lightness  at  the  heart.  I  forgot  not  only  my  present 
ills  but  even  the  troubles  that  were  to  come,  so  that  my 
progress  was  on  air  because  of  pleasant  self-communion. 
Thus,  in  spite  of  physical  distress,  I  was  able  to  look 
back  bravely  at  Joassaf  Petrovitch  when  I  met  him  at 
the  barrack  door  and  even  made  my  greeting  with  a 
smile.  The  old  man  came  down  to  me  at  once.  He 
took  my  hand  in  both  of  his  and  there  was  a  tinge  of 
mystery  mixed  with  the  sympathy  that  was  in  his  air. 

"I  have  arranged  it  all,"  he  whispered  eagerly. 
"Your  things  are  gone  with  mine  and  there  is  not  even 
need  for  you  to  go  inside." 

"Gone,"  I  echoed  in  astonishment,  "gone  where?" 

"To  the  boat,"  he  answered  guiltily.  "I  took  it  on 
myself  to  send  them  out.  You  surely  do  not  want  to 
stay  here  at  the  post,  and  this  bidarka  will  be  the  last 
for  several  weeks."  The  proposition  took  me  entirely 
by  surprise.  While  I  had  truly  thought  to  go,  I  had 
not  had  in  mind  a  scheme  of  quick  departure  such  as 
this. 

"But  Joassaf,"  I  said  in  some  bewilderment,  "where 
does  this  vessel  take  me  if  I  go  ?" 

"To  the  north,"  he  replied  encouragingly,  as  if  this 
was  the  especial  point  of  compass  to  which  I  wished  to 
flee. 

"ToYakutat?" 

"No,  this  side."  Then  with  some  hesitation  he 
continued:  "I  had  planned  that  you  should  go  ashore 
with  me."  I  understood  it  now,  and  the  knowledge 
brought  an  involuntary  smile. 


The  Way  of  the  North  19 1 

"Joassaf  Petrovitch,"  I  said  rather  drily,  "has 
Providence  given  you  a  revelation  of  a  mission  for  me 
as  well  as  for  yourself?"  He  looked  at  me  wistfully, 
though  I  could  see  he  was  abashed. 

"No,"  he  admitted  with  a  deprecatory  shake  of  his 
head,  "I  do  not  know  it  is  God's  order  you  should  go, 
but — I  wanted  you — and  I  hoped  that  you  would 
come." 

I  thought  the  matter  over  and  sought  to  make  a  quick 
decision  in  my  mind.  It  was  as  good  an  avenue  of 
escape  as  I  could  hope  for  unless  I  waited  and  went 
back  later  to  Okhotsk  on  the  ship.  As  I  thought  of 
Anna  Gregorovna,  the  latter  plan  was  utterly  distaste 
ful  to  my  mind.  The  distance  there  would  be  too  great, 
and  the  chance  too  large  of  never  seeing  her  again. 

The  Indian  village,  too,  would  be  a  safe  and  quiet 
sanctuary  and  there  I  should  not  be  more  than  a  few 
days'  distance  from  my  happiness  when  I  should  feel 
it  proper  to  return.  Then,  too,  it  appealed  to  me  that 
I  should  be  on  hand  to  be  of  service  to  the  pope  instead 
of  leaving  him  to  go  out  to  his  martyrdom  alone. 

"It  is  not  so  bad  a  plan,  Joassaf,"  I  said  musingly. 
"Only  before  I  go,  I  should  like  something  to  eat." 

"It  is  here  in  plenty,"  he  replied  with  eagerness, 
pointing  to  one  of  the  bundles  at  his  feet.  "The  boat 
waits,  and  you  can  eat  it  when  you  are  aboard."  I 
made  no  more  demur  but  followed  where  he  led,  and 
so  little  was  I  in  love  with  the  place  that  had  thus  lately 
given  me  shelter  that  in  leaving  it  I  did  not  once  look 
back. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BEING  a  young  man  still,  it  has  commonly  been  a 
thought  with  me  that  rest  was  only  for  the  old  and  that 
the  vigorous  failed  of  their  full  promise  by  just  the  hours 
let  go  in  inactivity.  But  with  the  pain  that  caught  me 
in  my  side,  the  stubborn  stiffness  of  my  welted  back, 
and  the  relentless  sting  where  my  inner  garments 
rubbed  against  the  broken  patches  of  my  skin,  there 
grew  in  me  a  new  and  wholesome  reverence  for  the  value 
of  repose.  It  was  not  wasted  time,  but  a  sane  seizing 
upon  vigour,  to  lie  at  rest  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  and 
let  the  hours  go  by  in  idleness. 

The  bidarka  was  a  great  one  built  to  carry  forty  men 
and,  under  the  paddles,  skimmed  across  the  level  sea 
as  if  it  were  a  live  thing  having  wings.  There  were 
some  thirty  souls  of  us  all  told  and,  besides  the  pope 
and  me,  but  two  were  white.  These  were  the  govern 
ment  messengers  between  the  posts,  who  looked  not  only 
to  despatches  but  also  to  the  food  and  like  supplies 
which  went  from  Sitka  to  the  stations  inland  and 
removed. 

The  whole  ocean  was  traversably  smooth,  but  for  the 
most  part  we  kept  near  the  shore.  Only  where  there 
was  distance  to  be  gained  by  run  from  point  to  point  of 
some  deep-lying  bay  did  we  venture  out  at  all  into  the 
open  sea.  Had  the  thing  been  planned  by  choice  we 
could  not  have  picked  for  travel  a  season  more  beautiful 
to  the  eye  or  more  grateful  to  the  heart.  The  fort- 

192 


The  Way  of  the  North  193 

night  that  had  elapsed  since  we  came  to  this  new  land 
had  worked  a  magic  change  in  earth  and  sea  and  sky. 
The  winter  fog  and  cold  had  passed  away  and  with 
them  the  gloomy  air  of  inhospitableness  which  had 
seemed  at  first  the  mastering  characteristic  of  the 
place. 

It  was  full  summer  now,  with  all  the  softness  and 
sweet  familiarity  that  summer  brings.  The  air  was 
mild  and  pleasing,  the  shores  were  warm  with  colour 
where  the  flowers  lay  in  great  streaks  and  drifts,  and  we 
never  passed  an  island  or  high  point  without  raising 
from  the  rocks  a  sudden  cloud  of  sea  birds,  white  or 
gray,  which  shrieked  discordantly  and  whirled  in  dizzy 
circles  round  about  our  heads. 

There  was  small  talk  among  us,  and  that  in  quiet 
voice.  The  natives  in  these  parts  have  not  the  light- 
heartedness  that  marks  the  dwellers  of  Kadiak  and 
the  isles.  They  neither  laughed  nor  sang  while  at  the 
labour  of  their  oars,  and  all  day  long  without  show  of 
pleasure  or  of  pain  were  pleased  to  look  on  life  with 
calm  indifference  of  mind. 

The  two  messengers  were  more  human  in  their  ways 
and  sometimes  talked.  But  they  were  shy  men,  with 
more  of  hunters'  than  of  traders'  gifts,  and  by  that 
difference  lacking  in  full  fellowship.  The  pope  was 
tasting  the  joy  that  came  from  the  fruition  of  his  hopes 
and  was  therefore  utterly  content.  He  sat  in  his  place, 
a  happy  man,  and  sang  to  himself  and  trailed  his  hand 
in  the  water  along  the  side  of  the  boat  with  all  the  frank 
abandon  of  a  child. 

As  for  myself,  I  scarcely  missed  the  companionship 
and  was  glad  to  be  alone.  It  was  too  soon  to  formulate 
a  plan  for  future  work.  I  was  content  to  wait  the 


194  The  Way  of  the  North 

inclination,  being  wholly  sure  that  when  I  needed  it 
the  proper  chance  would  come.  In  the  meantime  it 
tickled  my  imagination  that  Fate,  or  Providence 
rather,  if  I  believed  the  pope,  had  arranged  me  in  the 
cast  of  my  immediate  future  to  play  the  preacher's 
part  among  these  heathen  of  the  north. 

Perchance  my  strength  of  arm  would  be  of  use  to 
supplement  the  salvation  accomplished  by  the  pope,  in 
that  it  might  serve  to  hold  permanently  in  the  fear  of 
the  Lord  such  souls  as  he  brings  in.  But  I  doubted 
the  force  of  my  theology  for  turning  them  primarily  to 
that  salvation.  Still,  it  was  a  good  work  and  promised 
interest,  and  I  was  careful  in  discussing  it  with  Joassaf 
Petrovitch  to  hide  from  him  that  I  was  approaching 
it  with  a  smile. 

Concerning  Anna  Gregorovna  I  was  not  equally  at 
peace.  I  longed  continually  to  see  the  girl  and  never 
thought  of  her  without  a  foolish  yearning  to  have  her  at 
close  range.  It  had  not  seemed  so  hard  a  thing  at 
first  to  go  away  and  leave  her  there  behind.  My 
mind  then  was  so  full  of  the  affair  with  Baranof  that 
there  had  been  small  space  in  it  for  anything  outside 
the  one  wild  wish  to  get  away.  Perhaps,  too,  my  con 
ceit,  following  on  the  sudden  certainty  that  in  part,  at 
least,  Anna  Gregorovna  returned  my  love,  made  me 
flatter  myself  foolishly  that  my  interest  with  her  stood 
in  no  danger  of  immediate  wreck. 

But  once  away,  with  cooler  blood  and  time  for 
clearer  thought,  the  thing  took  on  a  very  different  light. 
The  matter  did  not  seem  so  sure  to  wait  on  my  return 
ing;  and  the  more  I  thought  of  it,  the  more  it  appeared 
a  foolish,  if  not  a  dishonourable,  thing  that  I  had  gone 
away  and  left  her  unadvised,  at  the  mercy  of  the  man 


The  Way  of  the  North  195 

with  whom  she  had  so  honourably  refused  to  break 
her  troth.  It  was  not  at  all  impossible  that  the  vacillat 
ing  lieutenant  might  yet  turn  again  to  Anna  Gregorovna 
and  hold  her  firmly  to  her  word. 

The  idea  stirred  me  so  deeply  when  I  thought  of  it 
that,  had  it  been  possible,  I  would  have  turned  the 
expedition  back,  but  when  it  came  we  were  already  far 
upon  the  way,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  promise  myself 
to  cut  my  exile  to  its  shortest  decent  length  and  resign 
myself  with  patience  to  go  on.  My  only  comfort 
came  in  the  thought  that  Alexei  Yegorovitch  was  in  no 
mood  unduly  to  push  the  wedding  on,  and  down  in  my 
heart  I  nursed  the  conviction,  born  of  hope,  that  the 
girl  herself  would  not  consent  to  such  a  step  until  she 
heard  again  from  me. 

So  the  hours  passed  comfortably  and  without  a  drag, 
and  it  was  a  real  regret  to  me  when,  in  the  late  afternoon, 
the  great  canoe  slowed  gently  to  the  shore  and  left  us 
with  our  trappings  on  the  land. 

Marfa  Alexandrovna  had  been  better  than  her  word 
and  had  furnished  us  not  only  with  an  interpreter,  but 
also  bearers  to  advance  our  loads.  My  back  forbade 
the  burden  of  a  pack,  and  I  alone  of  all  the  party  went 
light-freighted  on  the  way.  But  the  loads,  divided 
out,  sat  gently  on  the  others  as  to  weight,  and  the  pope 
even  found  in  his  naught  of  inconvenience. 

We  walked  for  nearly  an  hour  before  the  stopping 
for  the  night,  and  in  that  time  left  the  water  and  shore 
line  far  behind.  There  was  a  rough  path  leading  inland 
from  the  sea,  an  ordinary  native  highway  for  going  out 
and  in,  but  there  were  no  huts  or  clearings  or  other 
signs  along  it  to  show  in  this  wilderness  there  was  human 
life.  The  wet  moss  beds  gave  way  to  meadows  after 


196  The  Way  of  the  North 

the  first  rise,  and  we  walked  with  drier  feet.  Just  before 
dusk  we  emerged  from  a  forest  so  close  set  that  in  it  it 
was  already  dark,  and  came  out  on  a  level  place  where 
a  group  of  Indian  huts  was  still  visible  in  the  failing 
light. 

My  first  thought  was  that  we  had  come  to  our  jour 
ney's  end,  but  a  second  glance  showed  me  that  the 
village  was  deserted,  the  roofs  broken  in  and  tumbling, 
and  the  whole  place  overgrown  and  mouldy  with 
decay.  The  thing  excited  curiosity,  and  I  asked  the 
interpreter  how  it  came  about. 

"It  was  a  pestilence,"  he  said,  "that  happened 
four  years  ago.  If  you  will  look  around,  you  can  still 
see  the  bones."  Involuntarily,  I  let  my  eyes  run 
quickly  round  the  place.  It  was  a  fact  that  here  and 
there  about  the  houses  there  were  heaps  of  bones  that 
had  failed  of  proper  burial,  and  their  number  showed 
that  in  the  swift  affliction  that  had  come  upon  the  village 
a  majority  of  the  inhabitants  must  surely  have  suc 
cumbed. 

Though  not  the  end  of  our  journey,  I  saw  that 
this  charnel-house  had  been  fixed  upon  by  the  guides  as 
a  resting-place  for  the  night.  The  natives  paused 
before  a  larger  hut  and,  laying  down  their  burdens,  be 
gan  collecting  material  for  a  fire.  The  pope  sat  down 
without  a  comment  and  made  himself  at  home;  but  it 
seemed  to  me  a  foolish  thing  to  lie  within  the  circle 
where  men  had  come  through  plague  to  such  a  swift 
and  wholesale  end,  and  I  stoutly  expressed  my  doubt- 
ings  to  the  guide. 

He  listened  gravely  and,  before  answering,  turned 
to  speak  to  the  bearers  in  the  native  tongue.  They 
looked  at  each  other  with  a  conscious  air  of  under- 


The  Way  of  the  North  197 

standing  and  then  laughed  outright.  The  interpreter 
turned  again  to  me  with  the  grin  still  on  his  face. 

"I  have  spoken  to  the  others,"  he  said,  "and  they 
all  agree  that  you  need  not  feel  afraid.  They  know 
the  kind  of  plague  that  took  these  people,  and  it  is  not 
the  sort  to  linger  in  their  bodies  to  do  harm."  I  was  not 
satisfied,  but  there  being  no  help  for  it  I  let  the  matter 
pass  and  set  myself  to  establish  our  comfort  for  the 
night. 

The  empty  room  in  which  we  spread  our  beds  was 
not  so  cheerless  when  we  were  all  in.  With  the  help 
of  a  little  oil,  the  fire  on  the  middle  stones  burned 
brightly  enough  for  sight,  and  the  smoke  and  the  smell 
of  the  cooking  did  much  to  render  us  content.  The 
natives  herded  by  themselves  and  stayed  by  the  fire  to 
rat.  The  pope  and  I,  as  befitted  the  dignity  of  our 
station,  kept  to  ourselves  as  well,  and  chose  to  receive 
our  portions  outside  of  the  door.  It  was  pleasant  in 
the  twilight  and  there  was  better  air. 

"How  still  the  night  is,"  said  the  pope,  stopping 
meditatively  in  the  middle  of  his  meal.  "When  God 
saw  fit  to  lay  these  souls  to  rest,  He  surely  gave  to  them 
a  dreamless  sleep." 

"I  wish,"  I  answered,  "that  I  knew  more  of  the 
balm  with  which  He  closed  their  eyes."  It  was  my 
professional  instinct,  I  suppose,  for  my  glance  at  the 
moment  was  on  a  heap  beyond  us  that  marked  the  spot 
where  some  poor  wretch  had  rotted  where  he  fell. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  I  said  rising,  and  setting  down 
my  plate  on  a  convenient  log.  "I  will  look  at  these 
bones  and  see  what  they  have  to  say."  The  sun  had 
long  been  gone  and  the  Arctic  twilight,  though  it  lasts 
for  hours,  gives  a  light  too  dim  for  close  inspection,  and 


198  The  Way  of  the  North 

the  bones  too  were  bleached  and  worn  beyond  the  power 
of  telling  tales.  But  as  I  stirred  the  litter  with  my 
foot  I  saw  that  about  a  leg-bone  in  the  heap  which  made 
me  stoop  and  pick  it  up.  It  was  the  great  bone  of  the 
thigh  and  was  split  laterally  for  a  portion  of  its  length; 
and  in  the  crack  was  bedded  an  arrow-head  made  of 
stone.  The  thing  gave  me  an  idea  and  I  passed  to 
another  heap.  There  was  no  like  marvel  in  it  such  as 
I  had  before  found,  but  near  it  I  came  upon  a  skull 
bent  in  and  broken  at  the  back  as  if  the  man  who 
owned  it  had  been  struck  with  some  blunt  instrument 
from  behind. 

Other  like  evidences  were  not  difficult  to  find,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  I  had  collected  an  armful  of  these 
mute  witnesses  of  a  great  past  tragedy  and  carried 
them  back  with  me  to  the  door.  Laying  them  in  a 
row  on  the  log  where  we  had  been  sitting,  I  handed  the 
split  leg-bone  to  the  pope.  He  looked  the  collection 
over  slowly  and  crossed  himself  before  he  spoke. 

"They  were  murdered  then!"  he  said  in  a  whisper. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "the  plague  that  took  them  may 
have  come  from  God,  but  in  its  application  it  was  an 
assisted  scourge." 

It  was  a  relief,  though,  since  we  were  to  occupy  their 
place,  to  find  that  these  poor  souls  had  died  of  killing 
and  not  some  foul  disease.  My  curiosity  was  satisfied 
and  I  turned  again  to  where  I  had  set  down  my 
plate;  but  the  food  that  had  been  on  it  was  all 
gone.  I  lifted  the  thing  up  and  turned  to  the  pope 
in  some  surprise. 

"Did  you  not  have  dinner  enough  of  your  own,"  I 
asked  in  playful  accusation,  "that  you  have  also  taken 
mine?" 


The  Way  of  the  North  199 

"I  saw  it  done,"  he  said  placidly.  "It  was  some 
animal.  I  think  it  was  a  dog." 

"Why  did  you  let  him  take  it?"  I  demanded  rue 
fully.  The  pope  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  dropped 
his  eyes  to  his  feet. 

"He  did  not  ask  permission,"  he  vouchsafed  gently, 
"and  I  did  not  see  him  till  his  nose  was  in  the  plate." 

"Well,  there  is  more,"  I  said  lightly  and  shouted 
for  the  guide. 

"Bring  me  something  to  eat,  in  a  clean  dish,"  I  com 
manded,  "and  also  my  gun  and  some  loose  scraps  on 
this  plate."  He  did  as  I  had  ordered,  and  setting  the 
plate  of  scraps  where  it  had  been  before,  I  seated  myself 
by  the  pope,  leaned  my  gun  within  easy  reach,  and 
prepared  to  finish  my  meal. 

"Let  us  see  if  he  will  come  again,"  I  said  threat 
eningly.  The  pope  looked  on  with  growing  disap 
proval. 

"Surely,"  he  murmured,  "you  would  not  kill  the 
beast.  It  was  only  that  he  was  hungry  and  in  need." 

"It  was  not  your  dinner  that  was  eaten,"  I  said 
grimly,  and  went  on  with  my  meal.  But  my  heart 
softened  as  I  waited,  and  well  before  the  animal  ap 
peared  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  not  do  it 
harm. 

I  first  saw  it  in  the  shadow  beside  a  fallen  tree.  It 
edged  furtively  from  spot  to  spot  of  shade,  and,  growing 
bolder,  paused  for  a  moment  and  stood  to  sniff  the 
odour  of  the  cooking  that  came  to  him  on  the  wind.  It 
was  a  lean  and  ragged  specimen  of  the  native  dog, 
yellow  and  unkempt  and  not  yet  fully  grown.  I  recog 
nised  him  as  one  of  the  class  of  strays,  escaped  from  his 
place  in  the  sledge  team,  that,  separated  from  man's 


200  The  Way  of  the  North 

care,  eked  out  as  best  it  might  a  thievish  living  in  the 
woods. 

The  pope  saw  it  when  I  did,  and,  fearing  for  my 
discretion,  rose  quickly  to  his  feet.  He  went  to  the 
plate  of  scraps,  lifted  it  from  the  log,  extended  it  in 
invitation  and  called  to  the  dog  to  come.  The  animal 
remembered  enough  of  his  former  associations  with 
mankind  to  hold  his  ground  and  wait,  though  he 
circled  around  Joassaf  Petrovitch,  keeping  well  out 
of  reach. 

I  doubt  if  the  lure  alone  would  have  proved  enough, 
for  the  beast  was  overcoy ;  but  one  of  the  natives  stepped 
out  with  a  strap  in  his  hand,  and  striking  it  loudly 
against  the  leg  of  his  boot,  called  peremptorily  to  the 
dog  in  the  native  language  to  lie  down.  The  noise 
and  the  customary  tone  of  authority  had  their  imme 
diate  effect.  The  beast  squatted  instantly  and  re 
mained  in  his  place,  and  the  native,  walking  up  to  him 
as  if  the  thing  were  a  matter  of  every  day,  fastened 
the  thong  about  his  neck  and  tethered  him  to  a  con 
venient  bush. 

The  pope  thanked  the  man  as  if  there  had  been  real 
service  in  the  deed,  and  set  himself  to  make  the  ac 
quaintance  of  the  brute.  At  first  the  dog  would  have 
none  of  his  regard  and  showed  its  teeth  and  strained 
away  from  him  at  the  full  stretch  of  its  rope.  But 
hunger  is  keen  in  stimulating  faith,  and  animals  are 
quick  to  choose  out  those  who  are  their  friends.  First 
the  bits  of  meat  were  accepted  at  long  range,  and  then 
from  the  hand,  with  slow  advance  and  panicky  retreat; 
but  the  pope  was  patient  and  found  the  matter  near 
his  heart,  and  before  I  tired  and  went  in  for  the  night 
the  animal  was  supping  contentedly  from  the  plate  and 


The  Way  of  the  North  201 

Joassaf  Petrovitch  sat  by  him,  beaming,  with  his  hand 
on  the  creature's  head. 

The  night  passed  comfortably  and  we  were  early  on 
the  road.  There  was  no  change  in  the  disposition 
of  the  party  except  that  when  we  were  loaded  and  ready 
for  the  way  I  saw  that  the  pope  had  with  him  the  vagrant 
cur,  led  in  leash,  with  the  evident  intention  of  taking 
him  along. 

"Have  you  not  troubles  enough  without  the  burden 
of  that  beast?"  I  asked  in  some  derision.  "You  had 
better  leave  him  to  his  fate."  But  the  pope  smiled 
and  firmly  shook  his  head. 

"He  was  the  first  heathen  in  this  land,"  he  said, 
"that  God  delivered  into  my  hand.  I  take  it  as  an 
omen  that  I  prevailed  with  him.  Surely  you  would 
not  counsel  that  I  leave  my  first  convert  by  the  way?" 

I  laughed  at  the  conceit,  for  really  the  matter  made 
small  trouble  for  any  but  himself.  The  only  interfer 
ence  with  me  personally  came  from  the  fact  that  the 
dog's  presence  made  me  travel  wider  of  the  pope.  The 
beast's  conversion  was  purely  personal  to  him.  It  had 
understanding  enough  to  recognise  him  as  a  base  of 
supplies  and  so  accepted  him.  But  it  had  no  illusions 
as  to  the  other  members  of  the  party,  and  used  its  teeth 
to  such  effect  that  after  the  first  mile  we  came  to  travel 
well  outside  the  limit  of  its  bond. 

The  way  went  over  a  mountain,  tree  grown,  and  at 
the  higher  levels  still  wrapped  in  snow.  Beyond  it 
the  slope  fell  swiftly  down  again  to  the  level  plain,  and 
here  upon  the  border  of  a  little  lake  we  came  upon  the 
village  we  had  sought. 

At  the  first  glimpse  of  it  the  pope  set  down  his  burden 
and  stood  to  gaze,  crossing  himself  silently  and  letting 


202  The  Way  of  the  North 

his  lips  move  in  a  silent  prayer.  Then  almost  uncon 
sciously  we  quickened  our  steps  and,  translating  into 
action  the  eagerness  that  possessed  us  to  be  at  our 
journey's  end,  made  the  last  distance  in  breathless  time 
without  a  thought  of  effort  or  fatigue. 

At  the  outskirts  of  the  village  we  were  met  by  a  party 
of  three  men.  The  leader  among  them  was  a  short 
man  of  stolid  manner  and  ugly  enough  in  face  and 
feature  to  inspire  a  great  respect.  He  spoke  in  a  tone 
of  authority  to  the  interpreter,  who  turned  to  us  at  once. 

"It  is  the  chief,"  he  said.  "He  wishes  to  know  if 
you  belong  to  the  party  which  was  here  three  days 
ago?"  The  pope  and  I  looked  at  each  other  in  sur 
prise. 

"Who  do  you  suppose  they  were?"  he  said  to  me 
with  curiosity. 

"I  cannot  guess,"  I  answered.  "It  is  certain  no 
one  came  here  from  the  post."  Joassaf  Petrovitch 
turned  again  to  the  interpreter. 

"We  are  alone,"  he  said,  "and  have  no  connection 
with  any  other  men."  This  was  conveyed  to  the  chief, 
and  he  received  it  with  a  shrug  of  disbelief. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  interpreter,  delivering  his 
answer,  "he  desires  then  that  you  remain  where  you 
are  and  show  what  you  have  for  trade." 

"But  we  are  not  traders,"  protested  the  pope,  "and 
these  are  only  our  own  personal  effects.  Tell  him  that 
we  do  not  wish  simply  to  come  and  go,  but  have  been 
sent  to  live  with  him  and  his  people  here  in  this  place." 
This  information  being  imparted,  the  chief  seemed  in 
some  perplexity  and  held  himself  suspiciously  aloof. 
Then,  in  answer  to  his  direction,  the  interpreter  went  on: 

"  If  you  are  not  traders  he  does  not  understand  why 


The  Way  of  the  North  203 

you  should  wish  to  stay."  The  pope's  imagination 
fired  at  once. 

"It  is  for  his  sake,  not  mine,"  he  said  solemnly. 
"We  came  on  God's  work  and  seek  no  recompense  for 
ourselves.  All  we  wish  is  to  tell  him  and  his  people 
about  God,  and  through  God's  help  to  make  them  bet 
ter  men." 

The  statement,  promptly  transmitted  in  the  vernacu 
lar,  bade  fair  to  bring  the  usual  stir  that  follows  the 
propounding  of  new  doctrines  of  the  faith.  The  chief 
listened  patiently  and  at  the  close  began  himself  to 
talk.  He  was  a  dignified  savage  and  impressive  in  his 
speech,  and  held  his  temper  providently  in  hand.  He 
addressed  himself  now  to  one  of  his  listeners  and  now 
to  them  all  together,  and  it  was  plain  that  collectively 
they  were  struggling  with  the  thought,  and  fain  to 
work  the  problem  out.  Finally  the  chief  gave  up  the 
struggle  with  a  laugh,  and  the  interpreter  turned  again 
to  us. 

"It  will  be  permitted  you,"  he  said,  "that  you  may 
stay.  The  chief  says  there  are  some  very  bad  people 
in  this  place  whom  he  will  be  glad  to  have  made  good, 
and  he  is  pleased  that  you  have  come.  But  before  you 
go  into  the  village  he  must  see  your  things  and  judge  if 
what  you  say  is  true." 

The  way  of  obedience  was  the  easiest  in  this  case, 
so  our  packs  came  down  and  were  untied  and  thrown 
open  on  the  ground.  The  chief  attacked  them  writh 
the  curiosity  of  a  child,  examining  each  article  in  turn 
and  talking  volubly  with  his  assistants  all  the  time. 
The  lust  of  longing  was  upon  him,  and  my  blood  boiled 
as  I  watched  his  covetous  touch  as  he  fingered  greedily 
the  pope's  sacerdotal  robes. 


204  The  Way  of  the  North 

Joassaf  Petrovitch  was  complacent  and  finally  gave 
him  as  a  present  an  undervest  of  green  which  seemed 
particularly  near  his  heart.  He  donned  it  promptly, 
and  there  being  no  more  to  see,  reluctantly  allowed  the 
packs  to  be  closed  as  before.  But  no  sooner  were  we 
again  in  motion  and  the  matter  plain  that  we  were 
permitted  to  go  on,  than  the  bonds  of  silence  around 
us  were  loosened  and  the  whole  village  rose  up  from 
the  cover  where  they  had  been  hid  and  with  shouts  and 
laughter  settled  down  upon  us  as  a  lawful  prey.  The 
men  were  not  so  dreadful,  but  the  women  had  no  fear. 
They  lacked  entirely  in  reticence  of  mind  and  clacked 
to  each  other  about  our  appearance  and  fingered  with 
uncanny  freedom  such  portions  of  our  clothes  and  per 
sons  as  it  suited  their  curiosity  to  touch.  The  examina 
tion  was  good-natured  and  done  without  intention  to 
displease.  Joassaf  Petrovitch,  seasoned  by  his  priestly 
occupation,  received  their  attentions  in  fair  part;  but 
for  myself  I  was  glad  when  the  chief's  house  was  reached 
and  we  found  between  us  and  the  curious  crowd  the 
barrier  of  its  restraining  walls. 

The  chief,  whose  name  is  Shakmut,  has  three  wives 
and  many  children  and  is  a  great  man,  gauged  by  the 
standards  of  his  world.  He  fed  us  sumptuously  on 
fish  and  meat,  and  as  a  final  dainty  served  us  with  a 
bowl  of  mountain  berries  drenched  with  oil.  With 
me,  to  look  at  them  brought  swift  revolt,  and  even 
Joassaf  Petrovitch,  who  to  this  point  had  taken  cheer 
fully  whatever  came,  tried  but  one  mouthful  before 
letting  go  the  bowl. 

We  held  the  seats  of  honour  at  the  meal,  and  beyond 
us,  ranged  in  the  order  of  their  rank  and  age,  were  the 
other  members  of  the  family.  Each  dish  was  passed 


The  Way  of  the  North  205 

directly  to  the  chief,  who,  without  tasting  it,  handed  it 
to  us.  When  we  had  eaten  what  we  wished  it  was 
returned  to  him,  and  he  then  satisfied  his  hunger  to  the 
full.  From  him  it  went  in  order  to  the  wives,  and  then 
down  along  the  line  to  the  smallest  child.  I  thanked 
my  stars  that  our  hands  went  in  before  the  other  hands, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  wondered  at  the  patience  of  the 
ones  who  had  to  wait.  The  older  people  were  apathetic 
and  made  no  exposition  of  their  need,  but  down  the 
line  among  the  smaller  heads  there  was  a  row  of  wide 
black  eyes  that  followed  hungrily  each  movement  of 
the  bowls,  and  where  their  contents  grew  unduly  less 
this  interest  kindled  almost  into  fear. 

The  interpreter  found  little  time  for  rest,  for  the 
pope  talked  unceasingly  while  he  ate  and  kept  him 
busy  as  a  go-between.  Shakmut  was  gracious  and 
promised  everything  he  wished. 

"To-morrow,"  he  said,  "you  shall  have  a  house  and 
men  to  set  it  right;  and  in  your  work  we  will  help  you 
as  we  can.  You  say  you  came  to  make  my  people 
good.  It  is  a  wonderful  thing  and  one  of  which  we 
have  much  need.  I  have  a  brother,  Kettlewah,  and 
he  is  the  worst  man  in  this  place.  He  shall  go  to  you 
to-morrow,  and  it  will  be  a  great  relief  to  me  when  you 
have  made  him  good."  Joassaf  Petrovitch  heard  in 
mild  surprise. 

"Tell  him,"  he  said  to  the  interpreter,  "that  he  does 
not  wholly  understand.  I  shall  be  glad  to  talk  with 
his  brother  when  he  comes,  but  whether  he  is  made  bet 
ter  will  depend  wholly  on  the  man  himself  and  on  the 
saving  grace  of  God."  This  being  translated  to  the 
chief,  he  considered  for  a  moment,  looking  shrewdly 
at  Joassaf  Petrovitch  with  his  half-closed  eyes. 


2o6  The  Way  of  the  North 

"Are  some  men  so  bad,  then,"  he  said  ironically, 
"that  they  cannot  be  made  better  by  your  God?" 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  cried  the  pope  as  he  caught  from  the 
interpreter  what  the  other  meant.  "There  is  none  so 
bad  he  cannot  be  saved  if  only  he  will  come  to  Him." 
He  rose  unconsciously  in  the  excitement  of  his  earnest 
ness,  and  planting  himself  before  the  chief,  launched 
into  warm  discussion  of  the  doctrines  of  his  creed. 
At  first  the  interpreter  waited,  expecting  him  to  stop; 
and  when  he  did  not,  tried  in  vain  to  break  in  on  the 
current  of  his  speech.  The  thing  was  useless,  so  he  gave 
it  up  and  stood  to  wait  till  the  flood  of  eloquence  should 
of  itself  subside. 

Shakmut  kept  his  eye  upon  the  speaker  and  listened 
with  the  air  of  one  who  understood;  so  the  pope  found 
no  reminder  that  he  sowed  in  stony  ground,  and  let  the 
stream  of  eloquence  go  on.  But  the  chance  came  that 
a  particularly  fiery  period  found  its  end  in  a  direct 
interrogation  to  the  chief.  Then  the  shadow  of 
vacuity  in  Shakmut's  face  gave  to  the  pope  an  inkling 
of  the  truth  and  he  turned  and  caught  the  gleam  of 
humour  in  my  eye.  His  face  flushed  and  he  looked 
again  at  me  with  the  shamefacedness  of  a  guilty  child. 

"Truly,  I  forget,"  he  said  apologetically.  "It 
seemed  somehow  as  though  he  must  surely  under 
stand."  But  his  embarrassment  went  again  as  quickly 
as  it  came  and  he  turned  to  make  the  interpreter 
his  saviour  from  mistake. 

With  infinite  patience  and  slowness  he  began  to  go  over 
the  whole  thing  again.  The  repetition  had  small  interest 
for  me  and  I  let  myself  forget  it  in  the  comfort  of 
my  pipe.  The  pair  talked  and  talked  and  worked 
the  interpreter  without  end;  and  were  still  at  it  when 


The  Way  of  the  North  207 

the  men  came  in  to  lay  down  on  the  platform  our 
bedding  for  the  night.  The  pope  was  in  high  feather 
with  himself  and  the  world. 

"God  is  surely  in  this  place,"  he  said  solemnly. 
"There  is  a  boy  here  now  who  has  been  a  hostage 
with  our  people  and  is  already  instructed  in  our  faith. 
He  is  to  come  to  us  to-morrow  when  we  are  settled  in 
our  house.  The  leaven  seems  already  working  in  this 
family  here  and  when  the  chief  comes  in  there  will  be 
more."  Down  in  my  heart  my  faith  was  less  than  his, 
but  it  would  have  brought  him  only  pain  had  I  gainsaid 
him,  and  I  wisely  held  my  peace.  We  were  still  about 
our  preparations  for  the  night  when  the  interpreter 
once  more  came  back  to  us. 

"The  chief,"  he  said  to  the  pope,  and  his  air  was  of 
one  who  bore  good  tidings,  "desires  that  you  be  happy 
while  you  are  doing  good.  He  will  give  to  you  the  one 
of  his  wives  you  may  wish  to  choose,  to  be  a  wife  to  you 
while  you  are  in  this  place,  and  he  wishes  you  to  say 
which  one  of  them  you  prefer,  so  that  he  may  arrange 
the  matter  now."  The  thing  came  like  a  thunderbolt 
from  a  clear  sky  and  the  pope  blinked  and  gasped  as 
if  he  had  been  struck.  The  power  of  speaking  failed 
him  and  he  blushed  up  to  his  hair. 

I  looked  across  to  where  the  chief  and  his  wives 
stood  waiting  for  the  judgment  and  realised  with  delight 
that  the  women  had  been  counselled  of  the  matter  and 
were  watching  with  absorbed  interest  the  man  who 
was  to  choose.  Then  I  looked  again  at  this  northern 
Paris  brought  to  unwilling  choice  and  I  nearly  laughed 
aloud.  I  think  we  both  realised  that  the  offer  was 
made  in  innocence  as  well  as  honest  faith,  but  that  did 
little  to  dispel  the  pope's  confusion  for  the  time.  At 


208  The  Way  of  the  North 

last  his  voice  came  back  and  he  turned  in  helpless 
embarrassment  to  me. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  he  whispered  faintly. 

"Take  one  of  course,"  I  said  with  growing  joy. 
"You  surely  would  not  wish  to  offend  the  chief.  The 
little  one  seems  to  be  the  most  attractive — and  anyway, 
a  wife  is  a  handy  thing  to  have  about  the  house." 

"Be  silent,"  he  broke  in  in  stern  reproof.  "Are  you 
never  serious?"  He  thought  for  a  moment  while  he 
made  up  his  mind.  Then  turning  to  the  interpreter 
he  said: 

"Which  one  of  these  women  did  the  chief  first  take 
to  wife?" 

"See  here,  Joassaf,"  I  murmured  in  ironic  disapproval, 
"would  it  be  right  for  you  to  choose  that  one,  do  you 
think?"  He  gave  me  another  indignant  look,  but 
vouchsafed  no  reply. 

The  interpreter  put  the  question  to  the  chief  in  open 
council,  and  I  watched  with  interest  the  breaking  of  the 
news.  Both  Shakmut  and  the  women  received  the 
word  with  some  surprise;  but  the  effect  of  it  upon  the 
latter  was  plain  to  understand.  The  little  one  shrugged 
her  shoulders,  laughed  consciously  and  said  something 
to  the  others  in  a  subdued  tone.  The  one  who  had 
first  been  wife  did  not  blush  because  her  skin  was  too 
dark  to  let  the  colour  show,  but  no  one  could  mistake 
that  she  understood  that  the  choice  had  come  to  her 
and  felt  it  as  a  triumph  over  the  younger  pair.  The 
pope  saw  this  as  well  as  I  and  stood  shamefaced  and 
helpless,  waiting  for  the  word. 

"The  chief  is  satisfied,"  said  the  interpreter,  coming 
back.  "Her  name  is  Nikta.  She  is  the  older  woman 
to  the  left."  With  rare  control  the  pope  held  in  his 


The  Way  of  the  North  209 

feelings  and  made  his  answer  with  almost  his  usual  calm. 

"You  have  mistaken  my  desire,"  he  said  dryly. 
"I  have  neither  wish  nor  thought  to  choose.  Tell  the 
chief  that  the  reason  for  the  asking  was  that  it  is  not 
right  for  a  man  to  have  more  than  one  wife  at  a  time. 
This  Nikta  is  the  only  wife  he  has,  and  God  will  not  be 
with  him  till  he  puts  the  other  two  away.  As  for 
myself,  I  have  no  wish  for  any  of  the  three.  My  life 
is  given  wholly  to  God's  work,  and  in  it  there  is  neither 
need  nor  leisure  for  a  wife." 

When  he  began  to  speak  the  interpreter's  face  still 
held  the  puzzled  expression  it  had  caught,  on  the 
announcement,  from  the  countenances  of  Shakmut 
and  the  younger  wives.  I  am  not  sure  he  wholly 
grasped  the  argument  of  Joassaf  Petrovitch's  theology, 
but  he  lost  nothing  of  the  fact  that  the  decision  in 
favour  of  the  older  wife  had  been  but  a  mistake;  and 
when  he  realised  it,  his  perplexity  passed  away  and  his 
mouth  stretched  out  into  a  delighted  grin.  Most  times 
he  gave  no  sign  of  interest  in  his  work  and  went  about 
it  with  a  stolid  face.  But  this  translation  came  quite 
to  his  taste,  for  he  entered  upon  it  with  a  positive  air 
of  glee  and  spoke  the  message  with  a  glibness  that  con 
firmed  in  me  the  feeling  that  the  religious  side  of  it 
was  not  strongest  in  his  mind. 

The  family  heard  him  through  with  an  interest  that 
did  not  flag.  Shakmut's  face  remained  impassive,  his 
feelings  in  the  matter  being  evidently  of  divers  kinds. 
But  before  the  interpreter  was  done,  the  two  younger 
women  fairly  laughed  aloud  and  looked  from  the  pope 
to  Nikta  with  eyes  that  danced  with  mirth. 

The  discarded  woman  answered  not  a  word  but  stood 
for  a  full  moment  in  the  shadowy  light,  gazing  at  the 


2io  The  Way  of  the  North 

pope  with  eyes  that  had  in  them  somewhat  of  anger, 
but  more  of  sorrowful  reproach.  Then  without 
deigning  further  notice,  she  turned  away  from  the 
whole  group  and  went  silently  about  her  work  around 
the  house. 

Shakmut  found  no  wish  to  raise  the  gauntlet  Joassaf 
Petrovitch  had  thrown  down,  and  contented  himself 
with  passing  the  matter  with  a  shrug.  The  pope's 
face  grew  calm  again,  but  he  had  scarce  regained  his  old 
serenity  of  poise  when  we  were  left  to  make  us  ready 
for  the  night. 

"They  did  not  mean  it  badly,"  he  said  gently. 
"To  them  the  offer  was  a  kindness,  not  a  crime.  It  is 
not  unlike  they  all  have  extra  wives.  But  the  wrong 
is  there,  just  the  same,"  he  added  sturdily,  "and  I  shall 
insist  that  Shakmut  give  them  up." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THERE  is  no  stimulus  to  right  living  more  powerful 
than  the  holding  of  a  cheerful  mind.  The  man  who  is 
light-hearted  finds  small  need  to  quarrel  with  his  fate, 
and  he  who  laughs  at  fortune  is  commonly  surest  of 
attracting  her  regard.  But  there  are  times  and  places 
which  demand  the  sober  front,  and  the  salvation  offered 
to  these  natives  by  the  pope  requires  a  seriousness  of 
recognition  which  it  seems  beyond  their  power  to 
give. 

They  have  listened  readily  to  all  his  homilies  and 
pleas,  they  have  attended  each  service  as  if  it  were  a 
show,  they  have  brought  their  friends  and  babies  to 
be  made  good,  and  baptised;  but  when  it  has  come  to 
solemn  introspection  and  the  arduous  applying  of  his 
doctrines  to  the  cleansing  of  their  lives,  they  have  failed 
entirely  to  take  hold  upon  the  need,  and  lightly  shifted 
the  obligation  with  a  laugh. 

In  the  number  of  our  converts  there  has  been  naught 
to  ask.  We  have  been  here  now  three  weeks  and  have 
set  the  seal  of  baptism  upon  forty  willing  heads. 
Shakmut  still  holds  out  and  is  without  the  pale.  It  stirs 
his  soul  to  think  of  giving  up  his  wives;  but  the  pope  has 
been  as  hard  as  iron,  and  without  the  sacrifice  will  not 
seal  him  into  faith.  And  truly  it  is  an  ordeal  more 
harsh  for  this  native  than  for  the  common  man.  It  is 
pain  enough  to  lose  a  single  wife,  and  the  double  loss 
cannot  but  bring  to  him  a  special  strain. 

211 


212  The  Way  of  the  North 

The  question  of  the  wives  has  come  to  be  a  danger 
in  our  way.  The  men  we  might  convince,  but  the 
women  have  been  unheeding  and  against  us  one  and 
all.  They  have  openly  scoffed  at  changing  in  this 
regard  and  jeered  at  the  restraint  that  would  give 
but  one  of  them  to  one  man.  The  excess  in  numbers 
is  with  the  softer  sex,  and  I  shrewdly  guess  that  behind 
the  play  of  their  derision  has  been  the  hidden  fear  that 
if  the  new  allotment  came,  a  part  of  them  would  surely 
fail  of  place. 

The  first  convert  to  come  in  was  Parka,  the  youth 
who  had  been  a  hostage  at  the  fort.  The  pope  sought 
him  out  early  the  first  day  and  took  him  to  be  with  us 
in  our  house.  There  is  no  doubt  that  Shakmut  has 
done  all  that  he  agreed  and,  for  my  part,  I  would  set 
off  this  service  to  his  credit,  and  let  him  keep  his  wives. 
The  house  he  gave  us  is  commodious  in  that  it  has  three 
good-sized  rooms.  It  is  beside  the  lake,  convenient 
for  baptising  the  accessions  to  our  flock,  and  Shakmut 
has  had  it  put  to  rights,  and  rendered  habitably  clean. 

We  left  the  chief's  house  early,  after  our  first  night  in 
the  place,  and  without  ceremony  set  up  our  household  for 
ourselves.  Till  this  was  done,  the  pope  was  restless 
and  had  no  peace  of  mind,  and  though  no  sign  was 
made  of  further  thought  to  saddle  us  with  wives,  he 
kept  a  wary  eye  upon  the  women  as  they  went  about  the 
house  and  altogether  had  an  air  of  fearful  certainty 
that  they  would  pounce  upon  him  if  they  caught  him  off 
his  guard. 

But  once  in  our  own  place,  his  confidence  returned, 
and  scarcely  were  we  settled  when  I  saw  him  laying  out 
his  robes  and  dressing  for  the  first  public  service  of  his 
work.  Clad  in  his  full  vestments,  he  took  up  his  bell, 


The  Way  of  the  North  213 

and  pausing  a  moment  for  a  last  silent  prayer,  went 
forth  into  the  open  and  vigorously  rang. 

The  thing  as  yet  had  no  significance  to  the  savage 
mind,  and  for  the  moment  not  a  native  came.  But 
for  all  that,  the  summons  was  near  to  costing  the  pope 
the  one  convert  he  had  already  made.  When  he  began 
to  ring,  the  dog,  which  had  been  transferred  with  our 
other  luggage  to  the  place,  lay  tethered  by  the  doorway 
almost  underneath  his  feet.  It  was  the  first  time 
evidently  that  the  creature  had  ever  heard  a  bell,  and  the 
clangour  just  above  its  head  came  as  a  sharp  surprise. 
At  the  initial  peal  it  woke  with  a  leap  that  lifted  it 
from  the  ground  and  with  a  yelp  of  terror  fled  away 
with  such  heedless  speed  that,  coming  to  its  tether's 
end,  it  brought  up  with  a  snap  and  tumble  that  well- 
nigh  broke  its  neck. 

It  lay  so  still  the  pope  believed  it  to  be  dead,  and 
dropping  his  bell,  he  went  to  its  relief.  The  beast 
was  only  dazed  and,  being  turned  over,  kicked  vigor 
ously  and  got  slowly  to  its  feet. 

"You  are  right,  Joassaf,"  I  said  with  a  smile.  "The 
animal  is  clearly  convicted  of  sin  to  be  so  frightened  at 
the  call  to  God." 

"It  did  not  understand,"  he  said  in  mild  excuse. 
"  Though  there  is  keen  quickening  in  the  real  fear  of 
the  Lord!" 

"The  same  objection  runs  to  all  of  your  proposed 
flock,"  I  said.  "They  are  here  for  the  saving,  but  the 
trouble  is  to  make  them  understand." 

The  dog  was  led  away  and  tethered  in  a  more 
quiet  spot,  and  the  pope  returned  to  the  ringing  of  his 
bell.  This  time  the  prolonged  note  was  sufficiently 
alluring  to  be  accepted  as  a  call.  By  twos  and 


214  The  Way  of  the  North 

threes  the  natives  came  and  gathered  near  at  hand 
until  the  pope  had  a  fair-sized  audience  to  whom 
to  preach. 

He  began  with  an  impassioned  prayer  for  help,  and 
then  passed  around  among  them,  sprinkling  holy  water 
from  a  bowl.  They  looked  upon  the  process  as  some 
sort  of  magic  spell  and  shrank  away  from  contact  with 
him,  moving  out  in  front  and  falling  in  again  behind  to 
watch  his  motions,  so  that  there  was  a  pleasing  kaleido 
scopic  effect  of  constant  motion  in  his  congregation 
that  was  as  interesting  as  it  was  unique. 

When  he  had  blessed  them  all,  the  interpreter  was 
called  and  the  pope  talked  to  them  of  God  and  the  saving 
of  their  souls.  They  stood  like  children,  open-eyed  and 
charmed,  and  gave  close  attention  to  his  words.  But 
when  he  asked  that  those  whose  hearts  were  touched 
should  come  and  make  profession  of  their  faith,  though 
there  was  much  talk  among  them  and  no  little  stir,  not 
one  of  them  obeyed. 

The  next  day,  on  the  same  inquiry,  the  boy  Parka, 
having  been  questioned  privately  by  the  pope  and 
declared  of  proper  mind,  stepped  out  before  the  gather 
ing  and  announced  his  readiness  to  believe  with  us 
and  throw  in  his  faith  with  ours. 

It  would  have  been  a  callous  heart  that  was  not 
stirred  by  the  simple  exaltation  of  Joassaf  Petrovitch 
while  he  set  the  seal  of  consecration  on  this  first  regen 
erate  heathen  soul.  His  face  shone  like  a  god's,  and 
when  the  ceremony  was  done  and  the  two  came  up  to 
gether  from  the  lake,  wet  as  the  boy  was,  he  gathered 
the  young  convert  in  his  arms  and  blessed  him  in  a 
voice  that  choked  almost  beyond  control.  As  for  the 
natives  looking  on,  their  confidence  in  the  practice 


The  Way  of  the  North  215 

remained  seriously  in  doubt,  and  one  who  spoke  a  little 
Russian  asked  me  in  private  if  the  boy  would  die. 

The  following  day  two  other  boys  came  forward  in 
like  mind,  and  an  old  woman  brought  a  baby  and  laid  it 
in  Joassaf  Petrovitch's  arms.  It  was  scrawny  and 
thin  and  weak,  but  I  afterwards  found  it  interesting 
in  that  it  had  a  skin  eruption  I  had  never  before  seen. 
The  pope  looked  at  it  questioningly  and  bade  the  inter 
preter  ask  why  it  had  been  brought. 

"That  it  may  be  baptised,"  the  woman  answered 
promptly. 

"But,"  said  the  pope,  "it  is  too  young  to  know  and 
there  is  no  Christian  of  its  race  to  be  sponsor  for  it." 
The  woman  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  put  her  hands 
behind  her  back. 

"We  know  that  as  well  as  you,"  she  said  coolly,  "but 
its  father  and  mother  are  dead  and  it  is  sick  and  all 
alone,  and  we  thought  if  it  should  be  baptised  it  might 
change  its  luck."  The  pope's  eyes  filled  with  tears  and 
he  turned  and  looked  shamefacedly  at  me. 

"Heaven  forgive  me,"  he  said,  "that  I  should  ever 
forget  that  there  is  always  help  in  God!"  He  raised 
the  little  creature  tenderly  and  went  down  with  it  to 
the  water's  edge.  As  is  the  custom  with  young  children, 
he  did  not  dip  it  wholly  in  the  lake,  but  contented 
himself  with  lifting  a  little  water  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand  and  pouring  it  gently  on  the  baby's  head. 

When  he  was  done,  he  went  back  to  the  woman  and 
held  out  to  her  the  child;  but,  for  fear  of  evil,  she  would 
not  take  it,  now  it  was  baptised,  and  shook  her  head 
and,  as  soon  as  might  be,  shrank  back  into  the  crowd. 
He  tried  giving  it  to  another  with  the  same  result,  and 
in  all  the  gathering  found  no  woman  with  a  tenderness 


2i6  The  Way  of  the  North 

of  heart  so  large  that  she  would  risk  her  personal 
safety  by  the  doing  of  this  charitable  act.  At  length 
the  pope  gave  up  the  matter  in  despair,  and  kept  the 
babe,  and  it  became  an  inmate  of  our  house. 

One  thing  our  sojourn  here  has  brought  clearly  out. 
I  talked  with  the  chief  concerning  the  men  of  whom  he 
spoke  to  us  on  the  day  that  we  arrived,  and  he  showed 
me  a  parchment,  given  by  them,  confirming  him  in  his 
authority  under  our  lord,  the  Czar.  It  is  signed  by 
Lastockin,  who  is  not  our  friend,  and  it  is  plain  that 
Lebedef  and  his  people  have  stolen  a  march  on  us  and 
are  secretly  taking  possession  of  the  country  on  their  own 
account.  Though  I  do  not  love  Baranof,  I  resent  this 
treachery  to  the  cause  he  represents  and  I  am  convinced 
he  should  be  told  of  it  that  he  may  be  on  his  guard. 
And  to  that  end,  unless  occasion  offers,  I  shall  make 
opportunity  to  send  a  message  concerning  it  to  the  post. 

The  newness  having  passed,  after  the  first  week  the 
tally  of  men  in  the  congregation  fell  steadily  away. 
The  women  remained  constant,  though  I  had  no 
question  but  I  discerned  in  them  a  waning  reverence 
for  the  holy  office  of  the  pope.  They  cannot  under 
stand  in  him  the  reprobation  of  their  family  affairs. 
They  have  discovered  that  he  fears  them  as  a  sex,  and 
they  seldom  miss  an  opportunity  to  teach  him  that  like 
other  men  he  is  not  wholly  proof  against  their  charms. 

They  stand  close  to  him  when  he  talks  or  prays. 
They  touch  his  garments  and  run  their  eyes  approvingly 
along  the  outlines  of  his  form.  They  gaze  up  at  him 
with  bright  looks  and  deport  themselves  as  if  the  only 
object  in  their  lives  was  to  stand  well  sentimentally  in 
his  regard. 

The  worst  of  the  matter  is  that  in  these  doings  there 


The  Way  of  the  North  217 

is  to  them  no  element  of  intended  wrong.  They  say 
and  do  without  a  thought  of  wickedness  things  that  for 
a  woman  of  our  race  to  do  would  set  her  irrevocably 
without  the  pale.  The  frank  simplicity  of  these  north 
ern  women  so  clearly  marked  them  as  without  evil 
thought  that,  more  commonly  than  not,  the  pope  shut 
his  eyes  as  best  he  could  and  let  the  thing  that  shocked 
him  go  unreproved.  He  felt  somehow  that  such  a 
rebuke  would  only  argue  as  an  evidence  of  his  own 
uncleanliness  of  mind. 

The  only  one  to  treat  him  with  disfavour  was  Nikta, 
Shakmut's  oldest  wife.  She  did  not  forget  the  slight 
she  deemed  he  put  upon  her  in  refusing  her  as  wife, 
and  whenever  her  eyes  met  his  there  was  an  angry  glow 
in  them  that  spoke  full  plainly  of  the  wish  within; 
though  she  did  not  often  look  at  him  and  for  the  most 
part  when  she  met  him  turned  away  her  face.  Yet  I 
believe  that  in  the  immunity  it  gives  him,  the  pope 
blessed  her  for  her  dislike  and,  if  he  conveniently  could, 
would  have  given  over  all  the  others  unto  anger. 

There  was  one  damsel  in  especial  who  looked  at  him 
with  large  eyes  and  frankly  leaned  upon  his  liking  for 
her  joy.  She  was  less  flippant  than  the  rest,  being,  I 
suppose,  more  staid  in  disposition,  and  she  never 
missed  a  meeting  from  the  first. 

On  the  ninth  day  she  came  forward  and  professed  the 
wish  to  walk  in  the  way  the  pope  had  pointed  out,  and 
went  gladly  with  him  down  into  the  lake.  She  was  the 
first  native  of  mature  years  to  make  her  covenant  with 
God,  and  it  struck  me  that  the  pope  in  his  satisfaction 
was  somewhat  indiscreet  in  his  expression  of  the 
tenderness  with  which  he  welcomed  her  into  the  fellow 
ship  of  hope. 


218  The  Way  of  the  North 

"She  was  my  first,"  he  said  when  I  remonstrated 
with  him  in  the  matter.  "I  have  never  had  a  daughter, 
but  I  was  so  glad  for  her  in  her  coming  that  my  heart 
went  out  to  her  with  all  a  parent's  thought." 

"It  is  no  doubt  all  right,"  I  said  with  some  reserve. 
"My  fear  was  simply  that  she  would  come  to  interpret 
the  matter  in  the  selfsame  way." 

The  girl  made  no  reciprocation  at  the  time,  and  after 
her  immersion  went  quietly  away.  But  the  event  bore 
out  my  judgment  even  as  I  had  feared.  On  the 
afternoon  of  that  day  we  took  our  three  boys  and  went 
fishing  in  the  river  beyond  the  town.  The  sport  was 
good  and  the  catch  plentiful,  and  the  pope  planned 
that  the  fish  be  dried  and  stored  against  our  later  winter 
need.  When,  in  the  late  afternoon,  we  reached  the 
house  again,  we  found  the  convert  there  in  full  pos 
session,  her  things  stored  neatly  in  the  inner  room 
and  her  intentions  plainly  fixed  on  making  it  her 
home. 

The  pope  stopped  in  the  doorway  and  looked  at  her 
aghast.  She  had  caught  the  proper  idea  of  her  place 
within  the  house  and  was  tending  the  fire  and  working 
cheerfully  about  the  cooking  for  the  coming  evening 
meal.  He  recovered  from  his  astonishment  and  went 
to  where  she  stood. 

"Why  are  you  here?"  he  asked  with  some  severity. 
She  understood  no  word  of  Russian,  and  answered  only 
with  a  smile. 

"Get  the  interpreter  quickly,"  said  the  pope,  and 
held  himself  with  such  patience  as  he  could  until  his 
mouthpiece  came.  Then  he  made  again  the  same 
demand  of  the  girl. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "do  we  find  you  here  in  our  house  ?" 


The  Way  of  the  North  219 

The  girl  looked  from  the  interpreter  to  us  without 
embarrassment  but  with  evident  surprise. 

"Was  it  not  right?"  she  asked  in  some  alarm.  "All 
the  others  have  come  here  to  stay." 

"No,"  returned  the  pope,  "the  others  were  all  boys." 
The  girl  received  the  rebuff  in  sober  silence  and  did  not 
answer  till  she  had  thought  the  matter  out.  Then  she 
said — and  there  was  a  flutter  of  scorn  about  her  upper 
lip: 

"If  you  did  not  want  the  women,  why  did  you  ask 
them  to  come  in  ?  " 

"Because,"  said  the  pope,  "I  spoke  as  God's  mes 
senger  in  doing  it  and  never  for  myself.  The  salvation 
was  for  them  without  their  coming  here."  The  girl 
hung  on  his  lips  as  if  she  would  surprise  from  them  the 
meaning  of  his  words  before  they  came  to  her  in  her  own 
tongue. 

"Does  he  mean,"  she  demanded  breathlessly,  "that 
I  am  to  go  away?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  pope  laconically. 

She  stood  still  for  a  season,  her  face  hardening  and 
her  eyes  flashing  ominously  with  the  stir  of  a  sudden 
rage.  Then,  as  instantly  she  softened  in  self-pity  at 
the  failure  of  her  plans,  and  casting  herself  impetuously 
at  Joassaf's  feet,  she  threw  her  arms  about  him  and 
laid  her  cheek  against  his  knees. 

"Tell  him,"  she  said  to  the  interpreter,  "that  it  is 
not  just  to  send  me  away.  I  believed  in  his  god  because 
he  told  me,  and  if  I  do  not  stay  with  him  how  shall  I 
keep  my  faith  ?  Besides,  he  has  loved  me  and  been  a 
father  to  me,  and  I  do  not  want  to  go  away." 

"I  told  you,  Joassaf,"  I  said,  "that  you  made  a 
mistake  in  fathering  the  girl."  The  pope  bent  down 


220  The  Way  of  the  North 

and  gently  but  firmly  unclasped  the  girl's  arms  until 
he  freed  his  legs.  Then,  stepping  back  to  where  he 
gauged  the  vantage  to  be  safe,  he  addressed  himself  to 
me. 

"  How  shall  we  get  her  out  ?  "  he  asked  in  helplessness. 

"Why  not  let  her  stay?  She  will  tidy  things  better 
than  a  man  and  the  baby  would  be  safer  with  a  woman's 
care." 

"It  will  not  do,"  he  answered  firmly.  "If  we  accept 
her,  on  what  plea  could  we  refuse  the  rest  ?  "  The  girl 
saw  that  I  plead  for  her  and  turned  her  appeal  to  me. 
But  the  pope  was  firm  against  her  staying,  and  in  the  end 
the  compromise  was  made  that  she  should  go  out  from 
us  for  the  nights,  lodging  the  time  in  a  neighbouring  hut, 
but  should  have  the  privilege — and  the  work — of  our 
abode  throughout  the  day. 

In  view  of  what  came  after,  there  is  little  doubt  the 
pope  was  right.  The  next  day,  at  his  customary  call 
to  grace,  there  were  seven  maids  stood  forward,  con 
victed  of  their  sins.  The  pope  counted  them  over 
slowly  and  looked  significantly  at  me,  and  I  thought  I 
caught  an  ironical  suggestion  in  his  eye. 

Before  he  shrived  their  souls  he  spoke  to  them  at 
length  and  made  it  plain  that  our  family  hearth  was 
full  and  that  they  must  go  out  as  usual  with  their 
crosses  to  their  several  homes.  All  seven  received  the 
counsel  calmly,  though  evidently  with  much  chagrin; 
and  for  several  days  no  further  converts  took  release 
from  sin. 

It  may  be  wrong  to  dwell  so  strongly  on  this  motive 
in  the  play.  There  was  much  of  high  thinking  and 
good  labour  in  our  daily  lives  in  which  the  women  had 
no  interest  or  part.  But  all  the  care  with  which  we 


The  Way  of  the  North  221 

have  been  bound,  all  the  fear  of  failure  which  has 
weighed  upon  our  souls,  has  had  its  end — and  its 
inception — in  their  interference  with  our  work. 

Of  the  two  of  us,  I  personally  have  been  more  at 
ease.  The  women  have  not  stirred  me  with  their 
coquetry,  and  I  have  not  had  that  joy  in  their  conversion 
that  made  the  pope  yearn  for  them  and  rejoice  over 
each  saved  one  as  over  a  rescued  child.  Perhaps  if  I 
were  less  bound  to  Joassaf  Petrovitch  I  should  have 
less  greatly  cared,  but  it  was  not  good  to  watch  him  toil 
so  day  by  day  and  see  above  him  hanging  always  the 
boding  shadow  of  defeat.  Despite  the  gain  in  numbers 
in  his  sin-washed  flock,  I  saw  a  sinister  increase  in 
opposition  among  both  unregenerate  and  saved,  that 
in  the  end  could  bring  but  one  result.  At  first  this 
current  was  a  whim  and  a  caprice — the  natural  re 
sistance  of  an  ignorant  mass  to  the  force  that  strove 
to  move  it  uncomfortably  for  its  good;  but  bit  by  bit  I 
was  forced  to  see  that  in  it  there  was  an  opposition 
born  of  honest  disbelief,  and  the  breath  of  it  was  set  to 
blow  Joassaf  Petrovitch's  ships  as  far  as  may  be  from 
their  proper  port. 

Nikta  was  still  resentful  and  would  not  forgive. 
Shakmut,  though  silent,  thought  sourly  on  the  proposed 
reduction  of  his  wives;  and  above  all,  the  women 
generally  found  in  the  pope's  severity  a  challenge  to  the 
prowess  of  their  sex,  and  never  missed  a  chance  to  prove 
the  gravity  of  his  mistake. 

The  pope  himself  saw  all  of  this,  but  did  not  put  a 
fitting  valuation  on  its  force;  or  else,  more  like,  was 
over-confident  of  his  own  strength.  He  had  been 
uneasy  from  the  first  at  the  freedom  of  their  thought, 
and  was  still  shyly  restive  under  their  familiar  hands 


222  The  Way  of  the  North 

But  so  strong  was  his  reliance  on  his  own  purity  of 
life,  that  where  his  heart  had  gone  out  he  did  not  always 
show  the  wisest  reticence  in  act,  and  the  women  mis 
construed  this  softness  and  in  it  found  new  hope. 

At  first,  on  seeing  it,  I  called  him  to  account,  with  no 
thought  but  the  caution  would  be  welcome  at  my 
hand;  but  the  repetition  galled  him  as  the  days  went 
by  and  in  the  end  I  kept  my  admonitions  to  myself, 
though  not  so  soon  but  the  shadow  of  them  fell  between 
us  and  obscured  the  brightness  of  our  previous  perfect 
trust.  When  his  lonely  seizures  came  upon  him — the 
sort  that  would  before  have  brought  him  for  sympathy 
to  me — he  began  to  sit  apart  and  brood  silently  on 
his  cares,  finding  his  comfort  in  the  companionship  of 
the  foundling  dog.  The  beast  grew  to  be  his  close 
associate  and  friend,  and  he  lavished  on  it  all  the 
tenderness  and  love  he  was  denied  expression  of  toward 
the  women  of  his  flock. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  to  look  on,  helpless,  while  such 
events  proceed,  and  watch  them  moving  as  one  watches 
at  a  play.  Each  day  added  to  my  growing  fear  and 
fixed  the  certainty  the  end  must  come;  but  though  I 
knew  the  climax  was  ahead,  I  had  no  thought  that  it 
would  come  so  soon. 

Last  night  the  pope  was  in  his  gentlest  mood,  and 
after  the  evening  meal  we  smoked  and  lingered  in  the 
quiet  dusk  and  gossiped  as  we  used  to  in  the  older 
days.  The  talk  ran  all  the  way  from  Russia  to  the 
troubles  at  the  post,  and  when  sleep  pressed  upon  us 
and  we  rose  to  go  inside,  we  had  well-nigh  traversed  all 
the  matter  that  was  in  our  minds. 

"But  tell  me,"  I  added  as  a  parting  word,  "is  there 
the  perfect  satisfaction  for  you  in  your  work?  If  it 


The  Way  of  the  North  223 

were  given  you  to  do  again,  would  you  so  surely  come  ?" 
The  pope  sighed  softly  and  turned  away  his  face. 

"I  did  not  want  to  come  in  the  beginning,"  he  said 
simply,  "  and  much  about  the  reality  disturbs  me  to  the 
bottom  of  my  heart.  But  the  call  was  a  duty  I  could 
not  evade  and,  if  God  needs  me  and  finds  the  thing 
worth  while,  I  have  no  way  but  to  continue  and  try  to 
be  content." 

The  pope's  bed  was  spread  in  the  main  room  to  the 
front,  and  I  slept  in  the  chamber  behind  it  with  the  boys. 
Joassaf  and  I  went  into  the  hut  together,  and  bidding 
him  good-night,  I  passed  through  to  my  own  place. 
The  bed  was  pleasant  and  the  night  still  and  cool,  and 
it  was  with  a  sigh  of  pleasure  I  laid  me  dowji  to  rest. 
But  somewhat  in  the  season,  or  more  likely  the  memory 
of  the  talk  that  we  had  had  that  evening,  weighed  on 
me  like  a  homesickness  and  kept  me  wide  of  sleep. 

It  was  a  strange  jumble  of  events  that  came  in 
procession  to  me  as  I  lay,  and  each  added  to  my 
emptiness  of  heart.  But  I  think  it  was  of  Anna  Grego- 
rovna  mostly  that  I  thought.  It  is  strange  how  a 
woman  grows  into  a  man's  heart  and  makes  herself 
so  much  a  part  of  him  that  to  lack  her  is  to  make 
impossible  the  full  use  of  his  powers.  At  any  rate  the 
recognition  of  it  is  disturbing  to  one  who  comes  to  it 
in  his  full  manhood,  after  a  string  of  years  passed  in 
full  confidence  in  his  ability  to  go  alone. 

I  turned  the  matter  many  ways  before  I  went  to 
sleep  and  it  yet  swayed  my  consciousness  long  after 
slumber  came.  It  was  a  mad  chase  the  lady  led  me 
and,  as  is  the  wont  of  dreams,  one  that  weighed  heavily 
upon  my  peace.  It  is  the  mark  of  this  disordered 
state  that  the  thing  desired  is  always  just  beyond  the 


224  The  Way  of  the  North 

reach  and  yet  so  close  that  the  next  step  promises  a 
sure  success.  It  must  have  been  some  time  that  I  so 
wrestled  with  the  burden  of  my  care;  but  at  last  the 
aspect  of  the  trouble  changed,  and  in  my  dream  I  stood 
ranged  up  before  the  castle  of  her  heart  and  knocking  at 
the  door  of  her  regard. 

So  real  the  semblance  of  the  action  was  to  me  that  I 
could  hear  each  time  the  hollow  echo  that  followed 
on  the  stroke.  Then  the  echo  took  on  a  vividness  for 
me  that  was  stronger  than  the  thought,  and  I  wakened 
to  the  realisation  that  the  noise  was  not  a  seeming  but 
something  actual  and  outside  my  dream.  The  sound 
recurred  with  an  unrhythmic  steadiness  and  was  so  un 
usual,  coming  in  the  night,  that  I  forgot  my  dreaming 
and  came  wide  awake  to  listen  to  it. 

At  first  it  seemed  as  if  blows  were  being  struck  upon 
a  bench  or  floor;  and  then  as  if,  outside,  someone  wras 
chopping  wood.  A  sudden  rain  that  had  come  up 
with  the  night  was  pattering  noisily  on  the  roof  and 
served  to  confuse  the  sound  and  make  it  difficult  to 
place.  But  at  length  I  located  it  as  coming  from  the 
adjoining  room,  and  looking  across  to  it,  I  caught  a 
gleam  of  light  that  shone  through  the  crack  beneath  the 
door. 

Whatever  it  might  be,  the  pope  was  somehow  con 
cerned  in  it,  and  I  got  to  my  feet  and  moved  softly 
across  the  room.  The  door  opened  without  noise, 
but  the  caution  was  unnecessary  for  the  room  was 
empty  of  all  but  the  pope,  and  he  did  not  hear  me 
even  after  I  came  in.  The  night  lamp  on  the  table  had 
been  lit  and,  while  it  was  nearly  burned  away,  it  served 
to  send  a  shadowy  and  fitful  light  throughout  the  room. 

The  pope  was  in  his  night-clothes  as  he  had  come 


225 

from  bed.  He  stood  by  the  front  wall  of  the  room  and 
with  a  small  axe  was  fashioning  something  out  of  wood 
which,  as  I  approached,  he  lifted  and  tried  by  holding 
against  the  door.  He  glanced  around  at  me  as  I  came 
nearer  but  did  not  stop  his  work  or  speak  to  me.  His 
hands  trembled  so  he  could  hardly  hold  the  tool  and 
he  was  consumed  by  a  furious  and  eager  haste. 

"What  is  it,  Joassaf,"  I  said.  "What  are  you  trying 
to  do  ? "  He  went  on  with  the  same  fierce  eagerness 
and  did  not  turn  his  head. 

"It  is  a  bar,"  he  said  huskily,  " — a  bar  to  hold  the 
door." 

"What  dream  have  you  had,"  I  asked  in  astonish 
ment,  "that  you  are  concerned  this  night  to  fasten  up 
the  door  when  for  so  many  nights  you  have  slept  with 
it  unbarred  ? "  He  caught  hungrily  at  the  words  and 
paused  with  the  bar  still  held  against  the  place. 

"Was  it  a  dream?"  he  asked  wistfully,  and  shook 
his  head  as  if  to  clear  his  vision  and  think  the  matter 
out.  Then  whirling  suddenly  about,  he  thrust  his  hands 
out  to  me  in  a  passion  of  appeal. 

"Tell  me,"  he  cried,  " — you  said  it  was  a  dream." 
The  block  he  had  been  holding  dropped  unnoticed  to 
the  floor,  but  he  did  not  heed  its  clatter  and  stood  with 
every  sense  alert  to  catch  my  answer  whsn  it  came. 
As  for  me,  I  did  not  know  what  to  say.  There  was  no 
reason  for  me  in  his  sudden  madness  and  I  was  doubt 
ful  what  he  wanted  at  my  hands.  But  as  it  proved,  no 
spoken  word  was  needed,  for,  without  speech,  he  read 
the  hesitation  in  my  face  and  with  a  bitter  cry  threw  up 
his  hands  and  flung  himself  down  into  his  old  place. 

"Too  late!"  he  said.  "I  knew  it  was  no  dream," 
and  bending  down  he  reached  for  the  tool  and  block 


226  The  Way  of  the  North 

and  made  as  if  he  would  have  set  his  trembling  hands 
to  work  with  them  again.  I  went  across  to  him  and 
threw  my  arms  about  him. 

"What  is  it,  Joassaf,"  I  asked  soothingly.  "What 
has  happened  to  give  you  such  distress  ?  "  He  threw  me 
off  by  a  sudden  movement  and  shrank  away  from  me 
against  the  wall. 

"Do  not  touch  me!"  he  cried  hoarsely.  "I  am  not 
clean!"  I  had  seen  him  so  many  times  before  bound 
up  in  the  net  of  his  trance-like  faith  that  I  thought  I 
understood  his  present  mood. 

"Nonsense,"  I  said,  taking  him  again  by  the  arm. 
"I  will  see  to  it  that  no  one  comes.  Leave  this  work 
until  to-morrow  and  come  back  to  bed."  He  resisted 
for  the  moment,  but  in  the  end  he  acquiesced  and  let  me 
lead  him  unwillingly  away.  He  was  scarcely  conscious 
of  my  ministrations  and  talked  incessantly  in  broken 
words.  I  guided  him  to  where  his  bed  was  set  and 
tried  to  get  him  to  lie  down,  but  he  demurred  strenu 
ously  and  hung  back  like  a  frightened  child. 

''Not  there!"  he  pleaded  and  shrank  awray  as  if  it 
had  been  an  object  to  be  feared.  Across  the  room  he 
found  a  settle  with  which  he  was  content,  and  I  sat 
down  beside  him  there  and  waited  patiently  for  him  to 
grow  more  calm. 

It  was  plain  to  me  now  that  his  condition  was  not 
one  of  the  absorbed  religious  possession  I  had  seen  him 
in  before,  and  I  made  vigorous  search  among  the  prob 
abilities  to  gain  the  reason  why  he  was  so  moved. 
The  only  clue  that  was  forthcoming  was  his  eager 
effort  to  put  up  the  bar.  I  waited  till  he  was  more 
composed  in  his  manner  and  talked  less  to  himself,  and 
then  I  spoke  to  him. 


The  Way  of  the  North  227 

"Joassaf,"  I  asked,  "why  did  you  wish  to  bar  the 
door  ?  Had  there  been  someone  here  ? "  He  shivered 
at  the  question,  but  with  an  effort  lifted  up  his  head. 

"Yes,"  he  whispered. 

"Was  it  a  native?" 

"Yes." 

"  A  man  or  a  woman  ?  "  I  continued,  though  I  guessed 
what  the  response  would  be.  He  was  a  long  time 
gathering  up  his  courage,  but  at  length  brought  himself 
to  speak. 

"It  was  a  woman,"  he  said  faintly,  and  turned  away 
his  face. 

For  a  while  I  sat  in  silence  and  forebore  to  probe  into 
his  wound.  At  times  a  fever  of  unrest  took  hold  upon 
him  and  he  paced  fiercely  up  and  down  the  room.  But 
for  the  most  part  he  was  moved  to  sit  close  by  my  side, 
and  I  could  see  that  he  found  comfort  in  the  mere 
physical  contact  and  was  grateful  for  the  warm  touch 
of  one  whose  sympathy  was  wholly  his  and  on  whom 
his  troubled  soul  could  rest. 

The  light,  already  dim  when  I  came  in,  sputtered 
and  flared  for  want  of  oil,  leaped  up,  and  so  went 
fairly  out.  But  the  pope  knew  not  if  it  were  light  or 
dark  and  had  no  thought  for  anything  beyond  the 
weight  upon  his  soul.  It  pained  me  beyond  measure 
to  see  him  thus  oppressed;  and  his  constant  sighing, 
the  chill  of  the  approaching  dawn,  and  the  monotonous 
drip  of  the  rain  outside  upon  the  roof,  conjoined  to 
weight  my  spirits  almost  beyond  their  strength.  I 
groped  about  until  I  found  one  of  Joassaf's  hands,  and 
drawing  it  to  me,  stroked  it  to  make  showing  of  my 
sympathy  and  heart.  He  did  not  shrink  away  as  he  had 
done  before,  but  as  if  too  tired  to  make  further  struggle 


228  The  Way  of  the  North 

for  it,  let  the  hand  lie  listlessly  in  mine.  But  the  kind 
ness  told  on  him  in  time,  and  in  the  darkness  I  heard 
him  crying  softly  to  himself. 

"You  made  the  woman  go  away,  did  you  not,  Joas- 
saf  ?"  I  said,  speaking  as  if  no  time  had  elapsed  since 
we  had  talked  before.  He  was  entirely  silent,  but  I 
felt  rather  than  saw  that  he  nodded  an  assent. 

"Can  you  not  tell  me  now  about  it,  Joassaf?"  I 
asked  persuasively.  "Perhaps  it  will  help  to  share 
the  thing  with  someone  else."  He  shook  his  head 
and  made  a  hasty  murmur  of  dissent. 

"Try  it,"  I  said.  "Surely  I  can  be  trusted  to  under 
stand." 

"Not  now!"  he  cried  piteously.  "I  cannot  do  it 
now!" 

"But  if  you  drove  the  woman  out,"  I  persisted, 
"  why  are  you  so  distressed  ?  Her  coming  might  have 
happened  to  any  man."  His  excitement  at  once  came 
back  to  him  and  he  gripped  my  hand  until  I  fairly 
winced. 

"Oh  yes!  Yes!"  he  assented  breathlessly,  "but 
you  do  not  understand.  I  will  tell  you,  Fedor,  I  will 
try  to  tell  you  now,  and  you  will  understand — you  are 
sure  you  will  understand  ?  I  did  send  her  away, 
Fedor — but  at  first  she  would  not  go !  It  was  a  horror 
to  me,  her  coming,  and  I  fought  against  her  from  the 
start.  Oh,  it  was  dreadful! — her  coming  in  the  night! 
And  she  would  not  go,  Fedor — she  laughed  when  I 
tried  to  send  her  away.  I  was  ashamed  that  you  or 
anyone  else  should  know,  and  was  afraid  to  make  a 
noise,  and  so  I  bore  with  her  and  let  her  wait!"  His 
excitement  had  swelled  to  positive  frenzy,  and  he  clung 
convulsively  to  my  hand  with  both  of  his. 


The  Way  of  the  North  229 

"O  fool,  fool  that  I  was!"  he  cried  in  bitterness.  "I 
thought  I  was  strong  and  she  could  innocently  stay 
and  you  would  never  know."  He  paused  again  to 
gain  his  breath  and  brace  himself  with  courage  to  go 
on. 

"But  I  was  not  strong,  Fedor — and  the  woman 
laughed.  I  myself  do  not  know  how  she  beguiled  me 
and  turned  my  will  aside."  His  hands  let  'go  of  mine 
and  went  fumbling  up  along  my  arms  and  neck  until 
he  got  hold  of  my  head.  Drawing  it  down  so  that  my 
face  was  close  to  his,  and  I  could  feel  his  panting  breath 
upon  my  cheek,  he  made  the  effort  and  went  miserably 
on. 

"Let  me  tell  you,  Fedor,"  he  breathed  rather  than 
spoke.  "Bend  down  and  let  me  tell  you  in  your  ear — I 
did  let  the  woman  stay — I  thought  that  I  was  strong — 
and  I  fought  against  her — oh,  I  did  fight  against  her, 
but  it  was  no  use !  I  do  not  know  what  came  to  me — it 
was  like  a  consuming  fire — but  God  forgot  me,  Fedor, 
and  I  sinned!  Do  you  hear  me,  Fedor?"  he  said, 
unconsciously  shaking  my  head  to  emphasise  his  words, 
while  his  whisper  climbed  up  almost  to  a  shriek.  "  Do 
you  hear  me  ?  I  forgot  everything,  and  I  sinned ! " 

So  strong  was  his  despair  that,  the  climax  reached, 
he  remained  a  full  moment  in  the  same  position,  con 
vulsively  drawn  and  set.  Then,  as  the  excitement 
waned,  his  body  relaxed  its  rigour,  his  hands  dropped 
limply  to  his  lap,  his  head  fell  forward  on  his  breast, 
and  had  I  not  thrown  my  arm  about  him  he  would 
have  slid  wholly  down  upon  the  floor.  But  as  I  had 
hoped  it  would  be,  it  was  a  relief  to  him  to  have  rid  him 
self  by  confession  of  the  pitiful  burden  of  his  soul,  and 
as  the  comfort  came  to  him  he  lay  back  in  my  arms  with 


230  The  Way  of  the  North 

a  sigh  of  real  relief.  He  was  too  much  exhausted  to 
say  more  about  it  for  the  time,  but  with  the  pathetic 
wish  to  save  such  little  shreds  of  reputation  as  remained 
to  him,  he  looked  up  at  me  in  the  gray  dawning  light 
and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  added  with  a  wistfulness  that 
touched  my  heart:  "But  I  did  remember — after 
ward — Fedor,  and  I  turned  her  out!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THERE  is  a  sureness  born  of  blind  belief  that  finds 
no  lodgment  in  the  doubting  man.  Of  my  own  heresies 
I  have  been  vainly  proud  and  have  long  stood  com 
placently  above  self-accusation  because  of  lapses  in 
religious  creed.  But  as  I  sat  by  Joassaf  Petrovitch  in 
the  pitiful  loneliness  of  his  despair,  and  realised  how 
helpless  I  and  all  human  creatures  were  to  offer  him  an 
adequate  relief,  I  believe  I  would  have  bartered  my 
wide  freedom  for  the  narrow  code  of  faith,  if  thereby 
I  could  have  found  the  sure  conviction  in  me  that  the 
thing  to  urge  upon  him  was  to  turn  for  peace  to  God. 

But  I  could  not  do  it.  More  than  once  the  impulse 
started  in  my  brain,  but  through  very  honesty  halted 
unspoken  on  my  lips.  I  could  not  think  but  it  would 
be  a  sacrilege  if  proffered  thus  by  me. 

There  is  no  certainty  that  he  would  have  found  the 
succour  even  there,  for  the  waters  had  gone  over  him 
far  above  his  head,  and  he  had  small  strength — or 
wish — to  buffet  for  his  life.  Confession  did  its  part 
to  bring  an  easement  of  the  bitter  load,  and  the  thing 
once  owned  to  me,  he  rested  on  my  sympathy,  clinging 
to  me  eagerly  like  a  forgiven  child,  and  so  became  less 
tragic  in  his  grief. 

The  night  paled  into  whiteness  while  we  sat,  warmed 
swiftly  to  the  brighter  sallow  of  the  dawn,  and  in  the 
quick  ebb  of  its  withdrawing  left  us  stranded  like 
alien  bits  of  wreckage  upon  a  shore;  and  through  it  all 

231 


232  The  Way  of  the  North 

Joassaf  Petrovitch  did  not  stir,  but  sat  in  a  huddle  on  his 
bench  and  looked  out  into  the  future  with  unseeing 
eyes. 

I  heard  the  boys  stir  in  the  other  room  and,  drawing 
my  hand  from  his,  I  went  through  and  warned  them 
against  disturbing  the  priest  by  heedless  venture  in.  Re 
plenishing  the  fire,  I  put  on  water  and  made  him  a  pot 
of  tea.  Armed  with  this  anodyne  I  went  back  to  him 
again  and  sat  down  by  his  side. 

"Drink  this,"  I  said,  and  handed  him  the  cup.  He 
looked  up  at  me  with  vacant  inquiry  as  if  he  had  not 
heard,  but  he  stretched  out  his  hand  mechanically  and 
took  the  proffered  drink.  It  was  grateful  to  him  with 
its  warmth  and  familiar  taste,  and  as  its  magic  began 
to  tingle  in  his  veins  even  his  dejection  was  not  proof 
against  the  glow,  and  he  settled  himself  to  a  more  com 
fortable  position  with  a  sigh  of  bodily  content. 

When  he  was  done  I  took  the  cup  and  set  it  on  one 
side.  Then  putting  my  arm  about  his  shoulders  I  bent 
above  him  as  he  sat. 

"How  is  it,  Joassaf,"  I  asked  gently.  "Are  you 
feeling  better  now?"  He  shivered  slightly,  and  when 
he  answered  the  tears  were  in  his  eyes. 

"I  have  no  lack  for  creature  comfort,"  he  said  sadly. 
"It  is  the  mind  that  is  not  at  rest." 

"You  are  foolish,"  I  replied,  "to  take  the  thing 
so  much  to  heart.  It  might  have  come  to  me  or 
anyone." 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  it,"  he  said.  His  hands 
went  out  and  seized  upon  me  and  he  strove  to  choke 
back  a  sob. 

"I  have  no  heart  to  try  it,"  he  said  thickly.  "Oh, 
Fedor,  what  are  we  going  to  do  ?  "  I  was  touched,  not 


The  Way  of  the  North  233 

only  by  the  appeal,  but  by  his  inclusion  of  me  as  a  part 
ner  in  his  guilt. 

"That  will  depend  on  you,"  I  said.  "Did  you  think 
to  go  away?"  He  looked  up  timidly. 

"Would  it  be  right  to  stay?" 

"Why  not?"  I  answered  boldly.  "The  thing  is 
with  us  three  and  not  a  public  tale.  So  long  as  it  is 
undiscovered  it  makes  no  factor  in  the  choice."  A 
flush  of  colour  came  out  and  spread  across  his  cheeks, 
and  I  saw  the  pathetic  dawning  of  a  hope. 

"If  I  only  could!"  he  said  softly  as  if  to  himself.  I 
pushed  my  vantage  mercilessly  for  his  relief. 

"After  all,  your  being  here  is  God's  work,  not  yours, 
and  your  only  choice  in  the  matter  would  be  that  he 
bade  you  go."  My  heart  was  in  my  mouth  lest  he 
should  feel  the  irony  of  such  an  argument  from  me,  but 
the  desire  to  believe  was  strong  within  him  and  he 
caught  at  the  thought  alone. 

"He  has  not  bidden  it!"  he  cried  excitedly.  "I  have 
had  no  call  to  go.  God  bless  you!"  he  went  on  tremu 
lously.  "In  my  darkness  you  have  made  for  me  a 
way."  He  paused  for  a  moment  and  I  could  see  the 
light  come  back  into  his  dull  eyes.  He  straightened 
himself  and  raised  his  head  with  something  of  his  old 
dignity  and  power. 

"I  understand  it  now,"  he  said  eagerly.  "It  is  not 
what  I  do  that  counts  except  as  between  Him  and  me. 
I  am  but  the  thing  in  His  hand  to  do  with  as  He  will." 
He  was  yielding  himself  to  the  old  influence  of  posses 
sion,  and  I  felt  we  were  on  firmer  ground. 

"Do  not  think,"  he  went  on  with  fierce  humility, 
"that  I  forgive  myself  or  would  minimise  by  one 
hair's-breadth  the  enormity  of  my  offence.  But  that 


234  The  Way  of  the  North 

is  one  thing  and  another  is  what  He  has  given  me  to  do. 
I  shall  do  it,"  he  promised  with  conviction — "do  it 
until  such  time  as  He  shall  order  me  to  stop;  and  God 
helping  me  there  shall  be  better  work  in  it  that  for  the 
moment  I  forgot." 

He  did  not  look  at  me  as  he  talked,  but  spoke  imper 
sonally  as  if  in  public  explanation,  and  I  surmised  that 
what  he  said  was  an  expression  of  hope  for  his  own 
bolstering,  more  than  a  declaration  of  sure  belief. 

I  did  not  answer  him  and  he  went  on  incoherently 
with  his  discourse,  growing  more  and  more  absorbed 
in  the  one  theme,  till  at  some  unmarked  stage  the  point 
of  turning  came,  and  he  let  himself  freely  go  and  slipped 
slowly  from  the  bench  down  to  his  knees.  With  that 
his  courage  mounted  to  his  heart,  his  head  dropped 
upon  his  hands,  and  he  began  with  tears  and  agony  to 
plead  his  cause  with  God. 

I  knew  then  that  he  was  in  safe  hands,  and,  there 
being  no  need  for  immediate  ministration,  I  got  myself 
up  and  tiptoed  quietly  away.  I  set  the  boys  their  meal 
and  turned  back  our  convert  maid  before  she  reached 
the  house.  My  own  hunger  was  not  great  and  was 
easily  appeased.  Food  for  the  pope  I  set  aside,  and  at 
length  when  the  sun  was  high,  and  still  he  had  not 
come,  I  went  to  the  door  and  called  him  as  if  for  the 
usual  meal. 

To  my  surprise  he  came  with  promptness  and  with 
out  a  word.  He  was  still  white  and  haggard  with  the 
strain  of  his  ordeal,  but  there  was  composure  in  his  air, 
and  in  his  face  a  certain  quality  of  peace. 

I  did  not  question  him  as  he  sat  down,  and  the  meal 
passed  off  almost  without  a  word.  When  he  was  done 
he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  in  grateful  comfort  and  let 


The  Way  of  the  North  235 

himself  enjoy  the  relief  that  he  had  found.  I  waited 
patiently  and  in  the  end  he  spoke  of  his  own  accord. 

"God  willing,"  he  said  with  dignity,  "I  shall  hold 
service  this  day  here  as  before.  Go  about  whatever  work 
you  have,  and  I  will  rest  myself  till  it  is  time."  I 
thought  the  matter  over  quickly,  and  it  seemed  a  foolish 
thing  to  leave  him  in  the  house  to  fret  in  solitude  so 
long. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  river,"  I  said.  "  You  had  better 
come." 

"  No,"  he  said  promptly,  in  strong  dissent. 

"It  is  best,  Joassaf,"  I  urged  persuasively.  "Sooner 
or  later  you  must  go  out,  and  you  will  be  happier  when 
it  is  done."  He  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  pathetic 
gesture  of  defeat. 

"I  will  go,"  he  said  humbly,  and  set  himself  to  wait 
until  our  preparations  were  made.  But  he  could  not 
remain  still,  and  after  a  minute  rose  and  began  pacing 
restlessly  up  and  down  the  room.  The  dog  barked 
where  it  was  tied  behind  the  house,  and  he  slipped 
stealthily  out  by  the  back  door  and  went  to  bend  above 
it  with  words  of  interest  and  love. 

Here  he  remained  until,  all  things  being  prepared, 
I  called  to  him  to  set  out.  He  came  through  boldly 
to  the  entrance  door,  but  there  his  courage  failed  him 
and  he  stood  for  a  long  panicky  moment  while  his  eyes 
searched  with  reluctant  hesitation  the  open  spaces  here 
and  there.  Then  finding  strength,  he  came  rapidly 
across  to  where  we  stood  and  remained  with  us  as  we 
went  on  in  the  way.  But  he  kept  close  to  my  side  and 
a  little  in  the  rear,  and  from  time  to  time,  like  a  timid 
child,  I  felt  him  clutch  me  by  the  sleeve. 

The  way  was  comparatively  clear,  except  for  children 


236  The  Way  of  the  North 

and  old  men,  and  we  were  half-way  through  the  village 
before  we  saw  a  soul  who  might  make  question  of  our 
right.  But  as  we  came  to  the  turn  in  the  narrow  street, 
a  door  opened  suddenly  at  our  side  and  two  women 
stepped  out  into  the  road.  They  emerged  quietly  but 
abruptly,  and  seeing  us,  stopped  short  in  deference 
to  let  us  pass. 

For  me  they  had  a  salutation  of  respect;  but  as  their 
eyes  fell  on  Joassaf  Petrovitch,  with  one  movement 
their  looks  turned  to  each  other  with  quick  significance. 
One  spoke  in  an  undertone  in  the  native  tongue,  and 
then  they  both  looked  again  at  the  pope  and  mischie- 
viously  laughed  aloud. 

At  the  first  glance  the  pope  stopped  as  if  rooted  to 
the  spot,  and  stood  with  lips  pressed  together  and  eyes 
fixed  on  vacancy  with  the  air  of  one  trying  to  recall 
some  weighty  thing  that  has  escaped  his  thought.  I 
saw  his  cheek  whiten  as  the  play  progressed,  and  at 
the  laugh  which  showed  him  the  thing  was  out  and  the 
exposition  of  his  tragedy  at  hand,  he  gave  me  one  look 
of  agony  and  blind  despair,  and  swinging  on  his  heel, 
without  a  word  went  swiftly  back  on  the  road  that  we 
had  come. 

The  women  watched  him  till  he  disappeared  from 
sight,  the  humour  of  their  mischief  dancing  in  their 
eyes.  Then,  recovering  themselves,  with  a  return 
to  their  wonted  stolidity  they  passed  silently  by  us 
and  went  about  their  way. 

I  stood  for  some  moments  uncertain  what  to  do. 
There  was  so  grave  a  menace  to  the  pope's  peace  of 
mind  in  the  challenge  of  the  women's  eyes,  that  I  felt 
myself  grow  warm  in  thinking  of  it.  Yet  it  was  a  nice 
question  whether  it  would  show  more  kindness  to  follow 


The  Way  of  the  North  237 

after  him  and  seek  him  out  or  leave  him  for  a  space  of 
time  to  his  own  occupations. 

But  my  heart  was  too  full  for  him,  to  leave  wide 
latitude  of  choice,  and  giving  to  the  boys  the  things 
I  carried,  I  too  turned  back  and  hurried  after  him. 

I  saw  naught  of  him  as  I  reached  the  door,  nor  was 
there  a  sign  of  him  in  any  room.  I  had  not  thought 
to  find  him  gone,  and  for  the  moment  while  I  looked, 
a  very  panic  seized  me.  Calmer  judgment  counselled 
that  he  was  not  far  away,  and  passing  out  by  the  rear 
door,  I  came  suddenly  upon  him. 

He  had  thrown  himself  on  his  face  upon  the  ground 
beside  the  dog.  When  I  saw  him,  his  head  was  buried 
in  the  animal's  shaggy  fur  and  he  was  crying  as  if  his 
heart  would  break.  True  to  its  dislike  of  me,  at  my 
approach  the  dog  dragged  itself  free,  rose  to  its  feet  in 
menace  and  courageously  showed  its  teeth.  But  it 
steadily  gave  ground  before  my  advance,  retiring 
gradually  to  the  extreme  end  of  its  tether,  at  which 
point  of  vantage  it  stood  its  ground,  but  punctuated 
its  impliance  of  distrust  with  muffled  barks  of  challenge. 
I  stooped  to  Joassaf  Petrovitch  and  laid  my  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

"Joassaf,"  I  said,  "this  will  never  do.  The  thing 
has  got  to  be  met  and  you  must  get  up  and  face  it 
like  a  man."  He  made  no  answer  but  simply  shook 
his  head. 

"Come,"  I  said,  and  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve.  He 
paid  no  heed  and  was  utterly  inert.  Then  I  essayed 
another  way. 

"Joassaf,"  I  suggested,  "it  is  time  for  the  serving 
woman  to  come  in.  Surely  you  do  not  want  her, 
knowing,  to  see  you  thus  distraught."  The  shaft 


238  The  Way  of  the  North 

told  and  he  gave  a  shudder  of  dissent,  and  then  his  hand 
came  out  at  me  with  a  gesture  of  repulse. 

"Go!"  he  said  in  a  stifled  voice.  "I  will  come  after 
to  the  house."  I  went  as  he  directed,  and  scarcely  had 
I  entered  by  the  rear,  when  I  heard  the  front  door  open 
and  close  to,  and  knew  that  he  had  made  no  loss  of 
time  in  seeking  sanctuary. 

I  did  not  disturb  him  until  noon  and  then  only  to  go 
in  silently  and  leave  him  food.  All  afternoon  he  made 
no  sound  and  I,  outside,  revolved  the  matter  vainly  in 
my  mind  and  strove  to  find  a  way  to  set  it  right. 

It  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  do.  The  pope  had  come 
to  where  his  will  had  not  the  strength  to  be  a  certain 
help,  and  I  could  see  no  other  way,  unless  indeed  appeal 
could  be  addressed  to  the  one  among  the  natives  most 
concerned.  In  furtherance  of  this  plan  I  waited, 
after  setting  down  his  evening  meal,  and  ventured  once 
again  on  speech. 

" Joassaf,"  I  said,  "which  of  the  women  was  it  that 
came  in?"  The  shadows  were  so  deep  I  could  not 
see  his  face,  and  he  was  so  long  in  answer  I  feared  he 
would  not  speak  at  all. 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  said  faintly.  "She  came  and 
went  in  the  darkness  and  I  could  not  tell." 

It  was  the  last  straw  to  the  load  of  my  distress,  and  I 
felt  my  courage  drop  down  like  a  stone.  I  had  not 
known  how  much  I  had  staked  upon  this  last  cast  of 
the  die.  Without  another  word,  I  went  back  to  my 
place  and  ate  my  meal  and  smoked  my  pipe  in  a  dead 
gloominess  of  despair.  Think  as  I  would,  there  seemed 
no  other  way  but  that  the  pope  must  own  to  his  defeat, 
and  leave  his  work,  and  go ;  and  all  night  long  there  went 
as  a  current  in  my  dreams  the  wear  of  heart  it  would 


The  Way  of  the  North  239 

cost  to  start  him  on  the  way.  By  dawn  I  was  as  worn 
a  man  as  he,  and  when,  as  happened,  the  solution 
came,  I  scarce  had  heart  to  seize  and  act  upon  it. 

About  two  hours  before  noon,  as  I  sat  in  the  sun 
shine  of  the  rear  door,  I  heard  a  sound  of  shouting  that 
grew  louder  and  drew  near.  There  was  a  thunderous 
thumping  on  our  entrance  door  and  then  a  voice,  in 
Russian,  called  me  by  my  name.  At  the  same  time 
the  pope  came  hastily  out  from  the  room  in  front  and, 
passing  through,  shut  himself  up  in  the  small  closet 
beyond. 

My  heart  jumped,  for  I  was  nervous  with  the  strain, 
and  it  is  a  strange  thing  in  a  wilderness  to  be  thus  called 
for  in  one's  native  tongue.  I  got  up  hastily  and  passed 
through  the  house.  The  clamour  still  continued  at 
the  door,  and  opening  it  abruptly,  I  came  face  to  face 
with  Peter  Nicolaievitch  with  his  arm  raised  up  to 
strike  again  upon  the  wood.  He  gave  a  great  shout 
on  seeing  me,  and  in  another  moment  we  were  in  each 
other's  arms. 

"So  you  are  yet  alive!"  he  cried  joyously  and  kissed 
me  smartly  on  both  cheeks.  "The  natives  said  you 
were  here,  but  when  I  did  not  find  you,  I  feared  that 
they  had  lied.  And  the  priest,"  he  continued  excitedly, 
"is  he  still  with  you  and  of  the  same  mad  mi.nd?  By 
all  the  rules  you  should  have  the  whole  tribe  Christian 
by  this  time."  I  drew  him  into  the  house  and  gave  him 
something  both  to  eat  and  drink. 

"  Joassaf  Petrovitch  is  alive  and  well,"  I  said.  "He 
is  not  here  just  now,  but  you  shall  surely  see  him  when 
he  comes." 

"Is  he  content?"  he  asked  with  earnestness. 

''He  has  made  forty  converts  since  he  came." 


240  The  Way  of  the  North 

"So,"  he  said  absently,  looking  the  room  around 
from  wall  to  wall.  "You  are  not  so  badly  settled 
in  this  house."  Then  with  his  old  drollery  he 
burst  out: 

"The  shoes!  By  the  shirts  of  the  saints,  I  had  nigh 
forgot  the  shoes!  Was  there  any  sort  of  female  that 
could  wea^them  in  this  place?'' 

"Yes,"  I  responded.  "But  with  this  reservation — 
that  she  wears  them  round  her  neck."  He  burst  into 
a  roar  of  laughter,  but  almost  as  suddenly  came  back 
to  gravity  again. 

"I  had  hoped,"  he  said,  "the  place  had  palled  upon 
the  priest,  for  the  commander  is  full  set  to  have  him 
back  again."  I  felt  my  pulse  quicken  with  the  hope  he 
held  out. 

"Perhaps  the  thing  may  be  more  easy  than  you 
think,"  I  said;  and  then  I  told  him.  He  did  not  laugh 
as  I  had  feared  he  would,  though  at  the  end  there  was 
a  flash  of  humour  in  his  eye. 

"Poor  fellow!"  he  said  with  kindly  gravity.  "It  is 
always  the  innocent  who  find  temptation  strongest  at 
their  heels."  Then  shaking  his  head  with  an  impulse 
of  mischievous  whimsicality,  he  added :  "  God  help  us 
simple  men!" 

"But  you?"  I  said — "what  business  brings  you 
here?" 

"You  and  the  plague,"  he  answered  promptly. 
"There  was  no  doctor  at  the  post,  and  when  the  sick 
ness  fell  and  men  began  to  die  in  batches,  the  whole 
post  yearned  so  for  you  that  we  had  to  come  to  bring 
you  back." 

"There  has  been  sickness  then?" 

"A  hog's  share,"  he  answered  cheerfully.     "Well 


The  Way  of  the  North  241 

nigh  a  third  of  us  are  dead."  I  felt  myself  grow  cold 
with  a  sudden  fear. 

"Were  there  any  among  them  that  I  knew?" 

"None  but  the  old  lady  from  the  great  house  itself; 
but  a  string  of  settlers  ravelled  and  let  go,  and  outside 
the  wall  the  natives  died  like  sheep." 

"I  have  never  seen  a  great  and  sudden  scourge,"  I 
said.  "It  goes  against  me  that  I  was  not  there." 

"Have  no  such  worry,"  he  answered  cheerily,  "you'll 
be  there  yet  before  the  thing  is  done."  I  was  not  alto 
gether  pleased  with  his  assurance  that  he  or  Baranof 
had  but  to  turn  and  call  to  me  and  I  would  come. 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  I  said  with  coldness. 
"This  missionary  work  is  fairly  to  my  taste."  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  laughed  aloud. 

"Wait  till  the  commander  adds  his  word,"  he  said. 
"The  invitation  does  not  come  from  me  alone." 

"I  shall  surely  wait,"  I  rejoined  stubbornly,  "until 
he  brings  it  to  me  here  himself."  He  laughed  again. 

"Then  sweep  and  garnish  things  without  delay,  for 
he  will  be  here  before  you  have  time  to  smooth  youi 
face."  The  announcement  took  me  wholly  by  sur 
prise. 

"Alexander  Andreievitch!"  I  cried.     "He  is  here?" 

"Yes,  I  left  him  doing  ceremonies  with  the  native 
chief;  but  you  will  see  him  here  as  soon  as  he  can 
come."  I  felt  my  face  flush  up  with  the  surprise,  and 
for  a  space  I  had  no  word  to  say.  But  I  pulled  myself 
together  that  he  might  not  see,  and  all  I  said  to  him  in 
answer  was: 

"All  right.     I  shall  be  ready  when  he  comes." 

But  when  he  came  and  we  were  alone  together  in  the 
room,  it  was  another  thing.  The  composure  I  had 


242  The  Way  of  the  North 

thought  to  show  him  melted  like  mist  beneath  the  keen 
glance  of  his  searching  eyes,  and  I  stood  before  him  as 
confused  as  any  boy. 

"Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  he  said  coldly,  "you  have  made 
me  a  long  journey  because  you  were  quick  to  take 
offence."  It  was  a  new  thought  to  me  that  I  and  not 
he  was  in  the  wrong  in  that  which  had  been  done,  and 
his  assumption  took  away  my  breath. 

"For  God's  sake!"  I  cried,  "what  more  did  you 
expect  me  to  wait  for  at  your  hand  ?" 

"At  my  hand!"  he  echoed.  "At  my  hand!  There 
is  the  whole  keynote  to  the  mistake.  Because  I,  per 
sonally,  make  you  an  affront,  you  shut  your  eyes  to  all 
that  calls  you  in  your  world  and  run  away  because  you 
cannot  live  with  me.  Did  I  not  tell  you  when  you 
came  to  Alaska,"  he  went  on  sternly,  "that  it  is  not  I 
or  any  other  man,  but  just  the  Company  that  counts  ? 
When  I  had  you  punished  I  was  drunk;  and  that  fact 
took  away  the  right  from  you  to  hold  me  for  it,  except 
personally  as  a  man.  Alexander  Andreievitch  drunk 
and  Alexander  Andreievitch  sober  are  two  different 
things.  It  is  only  when  I  am  myself  that  I  am  com 
mander  of  the  post." 

"But  how  could  I  know "  I  began  angrily,  but 

he  broke  in  upon  my  words. 

"Why  did  you  not  wait  to  see?"  he  demanded. 
"And  then  you  would  have  known.  There  is  no  man 
at  the  post  that  can  say  that  afterward,  when  sober, 
I  have  failed  to  make  good  to  him  the  smallest  wrong 
I  did  to  him  while  drunk.  But  you — you  were  hot 
headed,  and  you  could  not  wait.  You  went  away 
without  a  thought  of  any  but  yourself,  and  left  to  chance 
the  men  and  women  whose  very  lives  depended  on  youi 


The  Way  of  the  North  243 

skill.  But  I  tell  you,  man,"  lie  cried,  and  his  voice 
rose  so  that  he  fairly  thundered  through  the  words,  "in 
your  position  the  going  was  a  wrong — a  crime — a  thing 
so  grievous  men  have  died  of  it!" 

"There  were  none  sick  to  need  me  when  I  went 
away,"  I  retorted  sullenly,  "and  you  yourself  in  my 
place  would  have  shrunk  to  stay  and  face  that  evil- 
thinking  crowd." 

"Not  so  fast,"  he  said  more  quietly.  "Let  us  think 
this  matter  out.  You  have  had  lashes  on  your  back 
that  I  have  no  doubt  stung  most  bitterly  both  your  body 
and  your  pride.  But  what  about  me  who  had  to  face 
this  same  crowd  with  your  mark  upon  my  face  ?  You 
are  a  hard  hitter,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,  and  I  assure  you 
the  colour  of  it  did  not  vanish  in  a  day.  And  yet  I  did 
not  go  away;  and  further,  do  you  think  it  an  easy  thing 
for  me  to  lay  aside  my  pride  and  make  this  journey 
here  to  follow  you  ?  If  I  had  been  of  your  sort  I  would 
have  let  the  whole  post  rot  before  attempting  it.  But 
my  people  needed  you  and  I  need  you,  and  so  I  laid 
aside  my  own  dislike  and  made  the  pilgrimage  to  ask 
you  to  come  back."  His  face  had  softened  as  he  went 
along,  and  when  he  finished  he  was  speaking  gently 
and  there  was  a  look  of  honest  kindness  in  his  eyes.  I 
had  been  disconcerted  by  his  earnestness  and  by  the 
unusual  view  of  the  matter  that  he  took,  but  in  spite 
of  my  irritation  my  heart  warmed  toward  him  for  the 
greatness  of  his  soul. 

"I  had  not  thought  of  it  as  you  put  it,"  I  said  con 
fusedly.  "I  will  take  a  little  time  to  think  about  it, 
but  you  can  depend  upon  me  to  do  what  is  right."  He 
looked  at  me  still  more  kindly  and  his  voice  took  on  an 
almost  pleading  tone. 


244  The  Way  of  the  North 

"Decide  it  now,"  he  said  with  much  earnestness. 
"What  is  there  to  be  gained  by  taking  time?"  He 
leaned  across  the  table  as  he  spoke  and  laid  his  hand 
on  mine. 

"Let  me  add  one  more  word,"  he  said,  "and  this 
time  not  as  the  commander  but  as  a  man.  When  you 
first  came  to  Sitka,  you  were  sent  to  me  as  one  whom  I 
could  welcome  and  depend  upon  as  a  son.  I  loved  you 
when  I  first  saw  you,  for  your  father's  sake,  and  you 
will  look  far  into  my  treatment  of  you  to  find  anything 
that  was  not  fair,  until  that  last  unfortunate  mistake — 
and  that  occurred  because  you  took  me  when  I  was  not 
myself.  I  am  determined  to  be  plain  with  you,  and  it 
is  a  measure  of  my  esteem  that  I  forget  my  pride  and 
talk  to  you  in  this  way  of  these  things."  He  paused 
for  a  moment,  and  it  was  plain  to  see  that  it  was  not 
easy  for  him  to  speak,  although  he  had  made  up  his 
mind. 

"It  is  a  weakness,"  he  went  on  hesitatingly,  "that  I 
should  ever  drink  too  much;  but,  God  knows,  the 
provocation  for  me  is  not  small  I  It  is  thirty  years  that 
I  have  lived  here  in  this  barren  place.  Yet  you  who 
have  lived  here  only  these  few  months  can  bear  me 
witness  how  void  the  life  is  of  everything  that  makes 
men  want  to  live.  There  are  times  when  the  black 
despair  so  settles  on  me  that  I  would  almost  rather  die 
than  try  to  fight.  In  the  best  of  times  it  is  only  the 
work  that  makes  it  worth  while  to  go  on.  When  that 
fails,  the  liquor  helps  me,  and  sometimes  I  go  too  far. 
But  drunk  or  sober,  there  has  been  no  time  that  my 
heart  has  not  gone  out  to  you  as  if  you  were  my  own 
son.  I  held  no  malice  toward  you,  once  I  was  myself. 
The  blow  was  one  I  might  have  struck,  if  I  that  night 


The  Way  of  the  North  245 

had  been  in  your  place,  and  there  I  am  willing  to  make 
an  end  of  it.  I  need  you  personally  and  in  the  work, 
and  I  beg  you,  both  to  come  back  with  me  freely  to  the 
post,  and  to  forgive  me  in  your  heart  as  if  you  truly  were 
my  son." 

There  was  ever  in  Alexander  Baranof  the  silver  qual 
ity  of  speech  that  won  the  unwilling  over  to  his  wish. 
I  do  not  easily  forget  a  wrong;  but  as  he  took  me  to  his 
confidence  and  thus  laid  bare  to  me  his  heart,  involun 
tarily,  I  felt  my  grievance  slipping  from  me  as  he 
talked  and  the  spirit  moved  me  strongly  to  go  as  he 
desired.  Besides,  the  thing  he  asked  for  fitted  wholly 
to  my  plan,  and  making  virtue  of  my  heart's  desire,  I 
rose  and  said  to  him: 

"I  am  content  to  lose  no  time  in  answer.  If  you 
wish  it  I  will  go." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  detail  of  departure  occupied  small  time.  The 
choice  once  made,  I  set  about  the  task  of  making  ready 
with  almost  feverish  haste.  My  first  anxiety  had  been 
about  the  pope,  and  in  a  few  words  I  told  to  Baranof 
the  story  of  his  fall. 

"I  had  heard  something  of  it  from  the  chief,"  he 
said  gravely.  "The  priest  is  more  honest  than  I 
thought." 

"He  must  come  with  us.  I  could  not  think  to  go 
and  leave  him  here  alone." 

"He  will  not  stay,"  said  Baranof,  with  strong  de 
cision.  "But  if  worse  comes  to  worst,  mine  is  the 
stronger  power." 

He  was  shrewdly  right  about  Joassaf  Petrovitch's 
state  of  mind.  To  my  surprise  he  made  no  strong 
objection,  but  seized  upon  the  going  quite  as  a  relief. 
His  sole  insistence  was  that  he  might  take  with  him 
his  dog.  To  this  the  commander  consented  with  a  shrug. 

"I  have  gone  too  far  in  owning  what  I  want,"  he 
said,  "to  haggle  now  about  a  kopeck  in  the  price.  But 
what  bond  of  sympathy  has  grown  between  the  man 
and  beast  that  he  should  stand  so  strongly  against  its 
loss?" 

"This,"  I  returned,  "that  the  beast,  among  his  con 
verts,  is  the  only  one  whose  eye  he  can  now  look  into 
without  dread.  From  the  dog  he  can  accept  affection 
and  know  it  is  for  himself  alone." 

246 


The  Way  of  the  North  247 

Before  we  went,  however,  I  found  the  opportunity  to 
tell  to  Baranof  all  that  I  knew  concerning  the  visit  of 
the  messengers  of  the  rival  company  and  the  compact 
with  the  chief  that  they  had  made.  He  roared  like  a 
baited  animal  and  got  excitedly  to  his  feet. 

"You  are  sure?"  he  cried. 

"I  saw  the  parchment  and  the  presents  that  they 
gave." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed  indignantly,  "I  will  go  and  see 
Shakmut  myself.  He  did  not  tell  me  this  before." 
The  interview  must  have  been  a  stormy  one;  for  when 
Baranof  returned  he  had  the  paper,  and  Shakmut 
walked  behind  him  responding  to  his  every  look  like 
a  whipped  dog.  The  commander  was  still  grim,  but 
his  anger  had  given  way  to  triumphant  satisfaction. 

"You  were  right,"  he  said  quietly.  "I  have  the 
written  proof.  It  was  a  long  journey  to  this  place, 
but  I  would  forgive  you  for  making  me  take  it  for 
this,  if  for  no  other  reason,  that  the  knowledge  of 
Lebedef's  treachery  is  so  essential  to  my  own  success. 
It  might  have  passed  me  if  I  had  not  come." 

The  house  was  soon  dismantled  and  our  goods 
within  the  packs.  An  hour  sufficed  to  clear  the  place 
and  in  another  we  were  on  the  road.  Had  there  been 
need  to  wake  up  in  me  a  hatred  for  the  life  that  we 
had  led,  it  came  with  the  first  move  toward  getting 
back  to  my  own  kind.  I  never  knew  before  how 
sweet  a  bare  companionship  could  be,  though  perhaps 
the  thrill  was  greater  that  the  future  held  for  me  the 
promise  of  a  warmer  welcome  from  a  woman's  face 
and  hand. 

However  that  might  be,  I  found  no  rest  till  we  were 
on  the  way.  I  cannot  now  remember  that  I  once 


248  The  Way  of  the  North 

looked  backward  at  the  house  in  leaving  it.  But  so 
far  as  expression  goes,  among  the  natives  there  was  as 
little  of  regret.  They  watched  us  from  a  distance  but 
made  no  move  to  help  us  with  our  work.  And  when 
we  went,  all  but  a  few  remained  phlegmatically  aloof 
and  made  no  show  either  of  kindly  or  unkindly  mind. 

Of  them  all  there  was  but  one  who  nursed  a  real 
grief.  The  serving-maid  was  frankly  troubled  and 
found  our  going  very  near  her  heart.  She  followed  us 
about  while  we  made  ready,  with  sad  and  wistful  eyes; 
and  dumbly  made  it  plain  her  soul  found  pain  in  our 
abandonment.  But  that  we  sent  her  back  she  would 
have  followed  us,  and  the  last  thing  we  saw  as  we  went 
up  the  hill  was  her  drooping  figure  standing  in  the  way, 
at  watch  to  see  us  to  the  very  end. 

Yet  of  the'  journey  there  is  little  to  relate.  Beyond 
two  happenings  that  it  brought  to  me,  it  had  no  features 
different  from  the  first.  One  of  these  incidents  was  the 
talk  I  had  with  Peter  Nicolaievitch  as  we  walked  there 
in  the  woods;  and  the  second  came  as  a  surprise  to  me 
when  we  were  in  the  boat. 

It  is  not  unnatural,  too,  that  I  should  have  yearned 
for  fuller  tidings  of  Anna  Gregorovna  and  the  people 
of  her  life;  but  so  far,  the  presence  of  the  commander 
and  the  hurry  of  the  start  had  stood  between  me  and 
the  goal  of  my  desire.  But  when  the  haste  was  over 
and  we  were  strung  out  in  the  forest  in  the  slow  plodding 
of  the  way,  I  found  my  chance  to  question  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  on  the  things  that  were  in  my  mind. 

"Alexei  Yegorovitch ? "  he  said  in  answer.  "He  is 
alive  and  fairly  well.  He  still  has  trouble  with  his 
throat,  but  I  keep  him  in  at  night  and  with  the  brandy 
he  comes  on  fairly  well." 


The  Way  of  the  North  249 

"Then  he  is  with  you  in  the  barracks  still?"  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  looked  at  me  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"He  is  not  married  yet,"  he  said  cautiously,  "if  that 
is  what  you  mean."  It  was  the  news  I  had  most  hoped 
to  hear,  but  somehow  when  it  came,  the  vagueness  of  it 
failed  to  bring  me  peace. 

"Why  has  it  been  delayed?"  I  said,  hiding  my 
discomposure  as  fully  as  I  might.  He  was  not  quick 
to  answer,  and  when  he  did  it  was  with  a  shrug  that 
shifted  all  responsibility. 

"Because  he  is  a  fool,"  he  said  shortly,  "and  is  not 
certain  what  he  wants." 

"Then  the  lady  is  still  willing ?"  He  gave  a  sardonic 
laugh. 

"The  lady!"  he  repeated.  "Both  ladies.  The 
man's  liking  for  them  is  of  such  equal  strength  he  cannot 
find  the  heart  for  giving  either  up." 

"But  surely  Anna  Gregorovna  does  not  know ' 

"That  is  true,"  he  admitted,  "though  she  might  if 
she  had  any  eyes." 

"Is  it  then  a  thing  of  general  report?" 

"No.  Alexei  is  too  careful  in  the  main.  But  it  is 
certain  the  commander  understands." 

"How  do  you  know?** 

"Wellj  from  his  air  and  look  when  Alexei  and 
Marfa  are  together  in  a  place;  and  he  has  warned  the 
young  man  that  no  trespassing  will  be  allowed." 

"Are  you  sure  that  this  is  so?"  I  demanded  ex 
citedly. 

"Yes,"  said  Peter  Nicolaievitch  positively,  "and  in 
doing  it  Alexander  Andreievitch  upset  the  fat  altogether 
into  the  fire.  Alexei  had  turned  back  to  his  first  love 
again  and  would  have  married  her  if  let  alone.  But 


250  The  Way  of  the  North 

when  the  commander  told  him  he  must  stick  to  her 
and  let  the  other  go,  he  was  sure  he  wanted  Marfa 
more  than  he  ever  had  before." 

"And  what  will  be  the  outcome,  do  you  think?"  I 
ventured. 

"Trouble,  my  son,"  he  declared  lightly.  "But  for 
whom,  as  yet,  the  good  God  has  not  made  it  entirely 
plain." 

"But  what  do  you  think— 

"I  don't  think,"  he  interrupted  with  impatience. 
"I  am  fond  of  the  whole  lot  and  do  not  want  to  think. 
I  shall  be  mourner  at  the  burial  of  whichever  of  them 
comes  to  grief." 

He  quickened  his  pace  as  he  finished  with  his  speech 
and,  forging  ahead,  began  to  chat  with  the  man  in 
front  of  me.  I  saw  that  the  subject  was  distasteful  to 
him  and  made  no  further  effort  to  draw  him  out.  But 
the  matter  lingered  with  me  till  it  became  a  steady 
undercurrent  in  my  thoughts. 

I  found  the  knowledge  helpful,  too,  in  meeting,  later, 
the  confidence  that  came  to  me  from  Baranof.  The 
commander  was  not  a  man  generous  in  demonstration, 
but  from  the  moment  of  my  giving  in,  in  allegiance  to  his 
plan,  there  was  a  something  in  his  manner  that  made 
me  feel  he  always  had  my  interest  at  heart.  But  with 
it,  too,  I  came  to  have  the  belief  that  there  was  something 
that  he  wished  to  say  to  me,  and  for  which  he  felt  the 
time  was  not  yet  wholly  ripe. 

It  was  not  till  the  last  day  when  we  were  together  in 
the  stern  of  the  great  boat  that  it  came  to  him  to  speak. 
We  had  been  silent  for  some  time,  and  when  he  spoke 
it  was  in  abrupt  break  of  the  topic  that  had  gone  before. 

"Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice  so 


The  Way  of  the  North  251 

that  the  natives  near  us  could  not  hear,  "there  are 
certain  things  that  must  be  told  you  before  you  get  to 
land.  You  will  remember  that  when  we  talked  back 
yonder  in  the  hut,  I  said  to  you  that  I  myself  had  need 
of  you  as  well  as  the  people  of  the  post.  I  have  waited 
until  this  time  to  tell  you  in  what  way,  because  I 
wanted  you  to  make  decision  without  thought  of 
me;  and  until  you  did  so,  I  could  not  ask  you  to 
be  active  in  my  personal  affairs."  He  stopped  for  a 
moment  as  if  uncertain  how  best  to  begin.  Then 
turning  on  me  the  full  glance  of  his  compelling  eyes, 
he  said  abruptly: 

"You  know  that  I  have  a  daughter." 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"I  am  in  trouble  about  her,"  he  continued.  "She  is 
not  rightly  well,  and  I  do  not  know  what  to  do."  The 
news  stirred  me  to  immediate  interest,  not  only  because 
I  had  a  warm  remembrance  of  Marfa  Alexandrovna  as 
a  kindly  friend,  but  also  because  I  thought  perhaps  I 
had  some  inkling  of  the  cause  from  which  her  sickness 
came. 

"I  am  sorry  indeed  to  hear  it,"  I  replied.  "Is  it  the 
prevailing  illness,  like  the  rest?" 

"No,  it  is  not  that,  though  she  has  given  much  time 
to  the  nursing  of  the  sick.  Her  ailment  runs  less  to  the 
body  than  to  the  mind." 

"How  does  it  act?"  I  said,  though  I  guessed  the 
truth  and  could  have  told  the  symptoms  as  I  spoke. 

"  I  cannot  fully  say,"  he  said  with  hesitation.  "  But 
she  has  lost  her  lightness  and  is  moody  and  distressed, 
and  I  can  see  her  growing  thinner  every  day.  It  is 
perhaps  because  I  can  see  no  sure  disease,"  he  added 
vaguely,  "that  I  find  cause  to  be  so  much  disturbed." 


252  The  Way  of  the  North 

In  my  heart  I  pitied  him,  but  for  all  that  I  could  not 
keep  a  question  from  my  lips. 

"Has  she  perchance  had  trouble  of  some  sort  that 
might  have  served  to  bring  to  her  unrest  ?  "  He  looked 
at  me  with  a  quick  glance  of  suspicion  and  surprise, 
and  waited  for  a  moment  before  making  a  reply. 

"To  some  extent,  perhaps,"  he  answered  slowly,  and 
then  paused.  I  made  no  sign  to  interrupt  him  and, 
after  turning  the  matter  in  his  mind,  he  went  on  with 
a  deprecatory  shrug. 

"I  must  be  frank  in  the  matter  with  you,  I  suppose, 
if  you  are  to  undertake  a  cure.  There  has  been  no 
trouble  otherwise  than  this.  Marfa  Ekaterina  became 
interested  in  a  man  to  whom  I  would  have  been  glad 
to  have  her  go.  I  found  him  dallying  and  inclined  to 
wait,  and  loath  to  give  her  certain  promise  of  his  plans. 
I  did  not  say  he  should  not  have  the  girl,  but  I  made  it 
clear  to  him  that  he  must  make  up  his  mind.  What 
good  has  come  of  it  I  do  not  know;  but  I  suspect  the 
thing  is  near  her  heart."  He  stopped  abruptly  and  I 
saw  that  he  was  through. 

"It  is  enough,"  I  said,  "to  answer  for  her  state;  but 
such  a  sickness  rarely  comes  to  kill.  How  long  it  still 
will  go  I  cannot  say  until  I  see  the  girl ;  but  be  assured, 
once  we  are  ashore,  I  will  look  into  it." 

"Good!"  he  said  with  a  quick  look  of  pleasure. 
"And  whatever  the  outcome  I  will  not  forget.  And 
now,"  he  went  on,  "as  to  the  other  thing  concerning 
which  I  wish  to  speak.  It  is  a  weightier  charge  and 
one  that  touches  both  the  Company  and  me.  You  will 
remember  that  even  when  you  first  arrived  in  Sitka  I 
was  disturbed  about  the  settlement  that  Lebedef  had 
built  above  up  on  the  Sound.  His  people  were  insolent 


The  Way  of  the  North  253 

then,  and  I  have  found  them  growing  bolder  every  day. 
Scarcely  a  trapper  or  hunter  of  us  has  been  spared,  and 
within  a  month  they  have  come  down  to  the  river  and 
taken  a  cache  of  fish.  You  yourself  have  brought  me 
word  of  their  treachery  here.  But  worst  of  all,  I  have 
one  of  them  firmly  inside  my  walls.  They  know  our 
plans  as  they  could  never  else,  and  almost  daily  I  have 
missed  things  from  my  private  desk."  His  face 
darkened  and  he  set  his  teeth  with  rage. 

"I  cannot  reach  them!"  he  cried  helplessly.  "The 
devils  know  and  watch  me,  and  besides  myself  there 
is  no  one  I  can  surely  trust.  But  enough  of  that,"  he 
continued,  swallowing  his  rage  and  turning  again  to  me. 
"It  is  in  this,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,  that  you  can  heJp  me  if 
you  will.  I  can  make  talk  of  that  which  will  certainly  set 
them  on.  There  will  be  no  knowledge  of  your  coming 
back,  and  the  trap  rightly  set,  I  have  the  thought  you 
might  surprise  them."  I  have  small  patience  with  a 
waiting  part.  It  frets  my  soul  to  sit  and  trust  to 
chance  to  come  to  me.  But  there  was  that  in  Alexander 
Andreievitch's  persuasive  talk  that  set  the  ordinary 
scruples  far  behind,  and  led  by  the  answering  tingle 
in  my  pulse  I  took  short  time  in  falling  in  upon  his 
mood. 

"I  will  do  it  if  you  think  it  best,"  I  said  impulsively. 
"But  knowing  that  you  sent  for  me,  shall  not  I  too  be 
watched?" 

"I  was  sure  that  you  would  help  me,"  he  said  quietly. 
"So  sure,  the  thing  is  all  arranged.  They  do  not  know 
that  I  have  sent  for  you  and  they  will  not  find  that  you 
have  come." 

Three  hours  from  Sitka  there  was  a  trapper's  post. 
It  was  a  landing  only  and  a  few  scattered  huts,  but 


254  The  Way  of  the  North 

by  the  shore  there  was  a  great  stack  of  rough  dried 
skins  brought  down  for  us  to  carry  to  the  warehouse  at 
the  post. 

I  saw  more  plainly  then  what  Baranof  had  planned 
to  do.  By  his  command  I  went  ashore  with  him,  and 
leaving  Peter  Nicolaievitch  in  charge  of  the  counting 
and  embarking  of  the  pelts,  he  set  out  with  me  for  the 
homeward  run  in  another  and  a  smaller  boat.  He 
trusted  the  discretion  of  no  other  man,  but  took  the  oar 
and  paddled  the  skin  vessel  for  himself. 

"It  will  be  a  day  at  least,"  he  said,  "before  they  can 
come  in,  and  for  that  time  our  opportunity  is  laid." 

The  saints  were  with  us  when  we  went  ashore.  A 
mist  had  fallen  and  the  moon  was  young  and  scarcely 
gave  a  light.  The  beach  was  empty,  and  only  once 
were  we  put  to  flight  by  meeting  anyone  upon  the 
way.  At  the  great  door  I  waited  while  Alexander 
Andreievitch  reconnoitred  silently  within.  Then  at 
his  touch  I  followed  him  noiselessly  through  the  dark 
ness  of  the  great  hallway  and  across  the  larger  room, 
and  so  came  to  the  alcove  where  he  had  his  private 
place. 

"Wait  here,"  he  said,  and  pushed  me  into  a  smaller 
space  beyond,  of  which  till  now  I  had  never  taken  note. 
I  heard  a  door  shut  to  upon  me,  and  Baranof 's  retreating 
steps.  Then  there  was  a  noise  as  he  banged  heavily 
the  great  door  in  pretence  of  new  coming  in,  and  I 
heard  his  step  go  up  the  staircase  to  the  floor  above. 
Almost  immediately  he  came  back,  accompanied  by  a 
woman  with  a  lamp.  He  sat  down  at  the  desk  and 
told  the  woman  where  to  place  the  light. 

"  I  shall  be  busy  writing  for  an  hour,"  he  said.  "  You 
had  better  bring  me  my  supper  here."  The  woman 


The  Way  of  the  North  255 

made  a  courtesy  in  assent  and  then  went  quietly 
away. 

Baranof  waited  till  she  was  out  of  sight,  then  rose  and 
came  across  to  me.  I  was  in  a  large  closet  or  clothes- 
room  built  into  the  wall.  The  door,  as  is  usual  in  such 
places,  was  constructed  in  two  parts,  so  that  while  the 
lower  section  was  closed  to,  the  upper  might  remain 
ajar  and  thus  let  in  the  air.  A  dusty  curtain  drawn 
across  the  top  served  to  conceal  my  head;  and  yet  with 
caution  as  I  stood  behind,  I  could  command  most  of  the 
room  without,  while  in  the  shadow  I  remained  unseen. 
Baranof  brought  me  in  a  chair  and  made  me  com 
fortable  as  might  be. 

"After  dinner  you  may  smoke,"  he  said,  "af  you  are 
careful  not  to  show  a  light.  There  is  the  smell  of 
tobacco  always  in  these  rooms." 

We  divided  the  meal  between  us  like  two  boys,  and 
Alexander  Andreievitch  was  in  high  good-humour  at 
the  prospect  of  success.  He  talked  and  lingered  under 
the  pretence  of  his  work,  until  the  evening  was  all 
but  passed,  and  it  was  not  till  the  lights  were  out  and 
he  was  gone  that  the  greatness  of  the  task  before  me 
began  to  weigh  upon  my  mind. 

There  is  no  silence  for  the  man  who  is  alone.  The 
night  provides  the  stimulus  to  stir  each  nervous  sense 
in  turn,  and  waiting  in  the  darkness,  a  hundred  times 
strange  noises  made  me  sure  that  what  I  looked  for 
was  about  to  come.  I  listened  breathless  over  and 
again  and  braced  myself  for  some  strange  happening; 
but  each  alarm  went  by  with  promise  unfulfilled,  and 
with  them  all  no  single  thing  occurred. 

When  the  real  crisis  came  it  was  in  a  way  all  foreign 
to  my  thought.  It  must  have  been  within  an  hour  of 


256  The  'Way  of  the  North 

twelve  when  I  became  conscious  of  a  rhythmic  move 
ment  overhead,  as  of  some  one  walking  on  the  floor 
above.  At  first  I  listened  to  it  with  attcnt  and  waited 
eagerly  what  things  should  come  of  it.  But  the  noise 
went  on  and  on  in  tireless  iteration  until  it  became 
unconsciously  a  habit  in  my  thought  and  I  no  longer 
remained  clearly  conscious  of -it. 

When  I  did  remember  it  again,  it  was  with  the  sudden 
certainty  that  it  had  stopped  there  up  above;  and 
listening  for  it  I  heard  the  pattering  echo  coming  from 
the  stairs.  It  came  down  confidently  to  the  lower  hall 
and  in  its  nearness  sounded  more  distinct.  My  heart 
began  to  jump  with  excitement,  and  I  held  my  breath 
lest  by  some  ill-timed  move  I  should  fright  away 
success. 

The  suspense  was  over  in  a  moment,  for  almost  at 
once  the  shadows  began  to  dance  across  the  floor,  there 
was  a  rustle  of  garments  in  the  doorway,  and  a  woman 
carrying  a  lamp  came  hurriedly  into  the  room. 

She  did  not  seem  like  one  afraid  of  watching,  but 
walked  boldly,  though  without  extra  noise.  Turning, 
she  swung  to  the  door  but  did  not  latch  it,  and  then 
crossing  the  room  set  down  the  lamp  on  one  of  the 
little  tables  near  the  western  wall. 

Beyond  the  table  was  a  window,  its  shutters  fastened 
like  the  rest.  These  she  undid,  and  set  the  boards 
apart,  for  just  a  moment  standing  to  look  out  into  the 
night.  Then  she  turned  back  into  the  room  and, 
throwing  back  the  wrap  that  was  about  her  head,  gave 
me  the  first  clear  vision  of  her  face.  It  was  Marfa 
Alexandrovna,  and  going  to  the  table  she  moved  the 
lamp  so  that  its  light  would  fall  across  the  narrow 
opening  in  the  shutters  she  had  made.  After  listening 


The  Way  of  the  North  257 

intently  for  a  moment  she  turned  away  from  the  place 
and  began  to  walk  nervously  up  and  down  the  room. 

I  followed  her  intently  while  my  head  went  round. 
Her  coming  was  a  shock  to  me,  both  because  I  could  not 
believe  it  was  she  whom  I  had  been  set  to  watch,  and 
because  the  creature  I  saw  before  me  was  such  a 
pitiable  travesty  of  the  woman  as  I  had  seen  her  last. 

She  was  thin  almost  to  emaciation  and  sunken  about 
the  eyes.  She  held  herself  with  her  old  pride  of 
carriage,  but  there  was  slowness  of  movement  even  in 
her  poise  as  if  she  had  lost  the  elasticity  of  youth. 
Perhaps  the  most  striking  change  showed  in  her  face, 
which  even  in  the  dim  light  was  altered  from  her  old 
habit  of  animated  interest  to  an  air  of  settled  melan 
choly  and  calm.  It  took  no  vigorous  effort  of  the  mind 
to  bring  the  certainty  how  strongly  grief  had  worked 
upon  her  health,  and  while  the  thing  was  painful  to  the 
heart,  I  was  glad  to  have  the  chance  to  study  her  un 
observed. 

But  as  I  watched  her  she  stopped  suddenly  where 
she  walked,  and  bent  her  head  toward  the  door  as  if  she 
caught  some  sound  that  had  not  come  to  me.  Evidently 
it  was  an  interruption  she  did  not  expect,  for  she  tiptoed 
silently  over  to  the  doorway  and  stood  with  her  fingers 
on  her  lips  listening  as  if  in  doubt. 

I,  too,  now  caught  the  sound  and  made  certain  that 
some  one  was  coming  down  the  stairs.  Marfa  Alex- 
androvna  remained  where  she  was  till  the  door  opened 
and  made  no  effort  to  conceal  herself  or  escape.  It  is 
probable  she  recognised  a  familiar  sound  in  the  ap 
proaching  step,  for  after  the  first  stir  of  the  surprise  she 
did  not  appear  disturbed,  and  when  the  intruder 
entered  she  remained  quietly  looking  at  her  and  did  not 


258  The  Way  of  the  North 

say  a  word.  I  think  perhaps  I  was  more  disturbed 
than  she.  My  heart  thumped  against  my  ribs  and  I 
felt  my  pulses  leap  within  my  veins,  for  I  recognised 
the  new-comer  as  she  did  and  saw  that  it  was  Anna 
Gregorovna  who  had  come  in. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  loose  habit  for  the  night,  and  her 
hair  hung  down  about  her  neck.  She  had  some  sort 
of  knitted  shoes  upon  her  feet,  and  a  shawl  was  drawn 
about  her  shoulders  as  a  guard  against  the  cooler 
evening  air.  She  went  straight  to  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
and  took  hold  of  her  with  both  hands. 

"Is  it  another  sleepless  night,  dear?"  she  said  with 
kind  solicitude.  "I  heard  you  walking  and  found  no 
peace  till  I  had  come."  The  Creole  did  not  repulse  her 
though  she  showed  small  satisfaction  in  the  proffered 
help. 

"I  am  sorry  I  disturbed  you,"  she  answered  slowly. 
"I  had  no  idea  you  were  awake." 

"There  was  no  trouble  in  it,"  returned  Anna  Grego 
rovna  quickly,  "except  in  that  it  made  me  sad  for 
you.  But  come,"  she  said,  and  drew  the  Creole  with 
her  to  a  seat  near  the  commander's  desk.  "You  must 
not  wralk  here  by  yourself.  Sit  down  comfortably  and 
talk  with  me  and  perhaps  the  thing  will  pass."  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  gave  a  quick  look  at  the  lamp  and 
shutter  and  so  round  the  room;  but  she  did  not  resist, 
and  seated  herself  on  the  bench  without  question  or 
reply.  Anna  Gregorovna  sat  down  beside  her  and 
took  her  hand  in  both  of  hers. 

"  What  is  it,  Marfa  ?  "  she  said  entreatingly.  "  What 
is  it  that  hangs  so  heavy  on  your  mind  ?  " 

"It  is  no  weight,"  returned  the  Creole  passively.  "It 
is  simply  that  I  am  not  well." 


The  Way  of  the  North  259 

"No,"  persisted  the  other,  "there  is  something  more 
than  that.  Tell  me  what  it  is,  dear.  It  will  help  you 
just  to  share  the  thing  with  some  one  else."  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  did  not  at  once  reply.  Her  eye  wandered 
stealthily  to  the  open  window  and  then  came  back  to 
Anna  Gregorovna's  face  in  ironical  dismay. 

"It  is  not  always  safe  to  ask  for  confidences,"  she 
said  slowly.  "The  sharing  is  a  tax  upon  the  heart,  and 
I  would  not  want  to  make  you  as  unhappy  as  I  myself 
am  now."  Anna  Gregorovna  drew  the  Creole  to  her  and 
held  her  closer  while  she  spoke. 

"You  have  been  so  good  to  me,"  she  said  simply, 
"that  I  cannot  but  be  unhappy  when  things  go  wrong 
with  you.  Tell  me  if  you  can,  and  if  it  makes  it  easier 
for  you  I  shall  not  mind  the  pain."  Marfa  Alex- 
androvna's  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  she  bent  and 
kissed  her  companion  on  the  hair. 

"I  will  not  spoil  your  happiness,"  she  said  absentfy. 
Then  recollecting  herself,  she  turned  on  Anna  Grego 
rovna  with  a  sudden  question. 

"Anna,  you  are  really  happy,  are  you  not?"  The 
girl  looked  up  at  her  in  some  surprise. 

"Why,  yes,"  she  said,  "except  as  I  am  worried 
about  you." 

"But  you  have  health  and  hope  and  a  promise  to 
look  forward  to,"  continued  the  Creole  almost  fiercely. 
"The  promise  of  a  lover —  "  she  hesitated  a  moment 
before  finishing  the  phrase — "a  lover  who  has  told 
you  you  were  dearer  to  him  than  all  the  world."  Anna 
Gregorovna  looked  at  her  as  if  she  did  not  understand. 

"What  would  come  to  you,"  went  on  Marfa  Alex 
androvna,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  "if  after  having 
had  these  things  they  should  suddenly  be  swept  away  ?  " 


260  The  Way  of  the  North 

"I  cannot  think  it,"  said  Anna  Gregorovna  quickly. 
"  But  surely  it  is  not  so  bad  with  you  as  that  ?  "  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  laughed  nervously  and  slowly  shook  her 
head. 

"Oh,  no!  it  is  not  all  gone.  But  I  lack  so  much  that 
you  and  other  women  have  that  the  world  has  a  taste  of 
bitter  to  my  mouth." 

"I  do  not  understand.  Your  father  is  good  to  you 
and  loves  you,  and  so  far  as  I  can  see  there  is  not  a  man 
in  the  post  but  would  make  you  the  dear  promises  like 
mine,  if  only  he  could  think  that  you  would  care." 

"No,  not  a  man,"  repeated  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
scornfully.  "And  not  one  of  them  with  the  courage 
to  keep  the  promise  after  it  is  made."  Anna  Grego 
rovna  gave  a  cry  of  protest. 

"You  are  not  just,"  she  said  impetuously.  "Not  all 
men  who  make  promises  to  women  break  them  in  that 
way." 

"You  mean  when  they  are  made  to  women  like  you," 
said  Marfa  Alexandrovna  drearily.  "But  I  am  dif 
ferent,  and  it  is  not  the  same.  Do  you  not  know  that 
I  am  a  Creole  and  only  in  part  of  Russian  blood?" 
She  pushed  Anna  Gregorovna  from  her  and  sat  up  bolt 
erect. 

"Oh,  the  shame  of  it!"  she  cried,  her  lips  trembling 
with  her  scorn.  "  My  mother  was  a  good  woman  and 
honest,  but  because  her  blood  was  of  a  different  sort,  I 
must  be  declared  a  thing  apart.  I  can  love  and  be 
loved  like  other  women.  But  there  at  the  edge  of 
happiness  the  division  comes,  and  no  man  of  my  father's 
race  can  take  me  to  him  honestly  according  to  the  law!" 
Anna  Gregorovna  made  no  effort  to  draw  her  down 
again,  but  looked  at  her  with  sympathetic  eyes. 


The  Way  of  the  North  261 

"Surely,"  she  said,  "the  man  who  loves  you  is  not 
base  enough  to  scorn  you  for  your  Indian  blood." 
Marfa's  face  changed  and  with  a  shamefaced  look  at 
Anna  Gregorovna  she  let  her  eyes  drop  to  the  floor. 

"I  was  wrong  to  say  he  was  not  true,"  she  said 
softly.  "There  were  other  things  besides.  He  loves 
me.  I  am  sure  of  it,  and  if  I  would  go  to  him  he  would 
take  me  as  I  am." 

"Then  why  do  you  feel  so  bitterly  about  it  all?" 
The  perversion  born  of  her  long  brooding  on  the  affair, 
or  else  some  strange  distortion  of  her  mind,  held 
Marfa  Alexandrovna  as  if  in  fascination  to  the 
further  dissection  of  her  feelings  with  the  woman 
she  had  wronged. 

"Because  it  is  not  right  that  I  should  go.  Would 
you  marry  the  man  you  loved  if  you  thought  it  would 
bring  him  shame  ?  If  it  were  to  be  here  always  in  this 
land  I  would  not  wait  until  to-morrow  night.  But 
he  is  a  young  man  and  I  believe  will  rise.  And  what 
would  happen  when  he  was  called  back  across  the  seas  ? 
You  know  how  they  would  look  upon  me  there;  and  even 
if  I  did  not  lose  his  love,  could  I  bear  it,  do  you  think, 
to  know  that  I  was  a  drag  upon  his  life?  Oh!"  she 
cried,  throwing  out  both  hands  with  a  gesture  of 
disgust,  "I  am  sick  of  the  whole  thing!"  Anna 
Gregorovna  moved  swiftly  over  and  put  both  arms 
about  Marfa  Alexandrovna's  neck. 

"Forgive  me,"  she  said  entreatingly.  "I  think  I 
understand  it  now.  When  I  think  how  much  more  has 
come  to  me  than  to  you  I  am  ashamed  that  it  is  mine. 
Believe  me,  if  I  could  I  would  give  you  a  full  share  in  all 
my  happiness."  With  a  sibilant  indrawing  of  the 
breath  Marfa  Alexandrovna  pushed  her  sharply  back. 


262  The  Way  of  the  North 

"I  want  a  part  of  no  man's  love,"  she  said  fiercely. 
"  I  will  have  everything  or  none  at  all ! " 

"And  yet  when  one  has  offered  all  of  it  you  say  you 
are  going  to  give  him  up."  The  Creole's  face  flushed, 
and  I  could  see  that  the  strain  was  wearing  on  her  self- 
control. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said  coolly.  "I  have  not  yet 
made  up  my  mind." 

"But,"  said  Anna  Gregorovna,  "you  yourself  have 
told  me  that  he  cannot  marry  you  under  the  law." 
The  Creole  laughed  and  threw  out  her  hands  with  the 
same  gesture  of  contemptuous  despair. 

"What  do  I  owe  the  law,"  she  said  bitterly,  "that  I 
should  set  aside  my  happiness  at  its  demand ! " 

"But,  Marfa!"  Anna  gasped  in  horror.  "You  do 
not  mean " 

"I  do  not  know  what  I  mean,"  returned  the  other 
dully.  "Perhaps  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  trust  my 
self." 

"Oh!  Oh!"  cried  the  younger  girl.  "You  could 
not!  I  cannot  believe  it!"  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
shrugged  her  shoulders  and  looked  Anna  Gregorovna 
defiantly  in  the  face. 

"It  is  my  happiness,"  she  said  doggedly  and  turned 
herself  away.  Anna  Gregorovna  was  beside  her  in  a 
moment. 

"Tell  me  you  do  not  mean  it!"  she  entreated.  "I 
cannot  believe  that  you  have  ever  done  an  evil  thing." 
Marfa  Alexandrovna  looked  down  at  her  for  some 
moments  as  if  debating  with  herself  how  far  she  might 
dare  to  go, 

"I  am  glad  of  your  good  opinion,"  she  said  slowly, 
"but  I  am  no  more  perfect  than  the  rest." 


The  Way  of  the  North  263 

Then,  with  an  abruptness  that  was  like  her  father's, 
she  addressed  herself  to  the  younger  girl,  speaking 
faster  and  with  an  evident  desire  to  impress. 

"What  if  I  should  tell  you,"  she  said,  "that  I  de 
ceived  you  to-night  when  I  let  you  think  that  I  was 
here  alone  because  I  could  not  sleep.  What  if  I 
should  say  that  I  came — as  I  have  come  before — to 
meet  the  man  who  has  my  happiness  in  his  hand  and 
that  I  am  to  see  him  here  to-night  ?  " 

Anna  Gregorovna  heard  her  through  with  a  surprise 
that  held  her  rooted  to  her  place.  She  sat  like  one 
bewildered  and  there  could  be  read  upon  her  face 
incredulity  that  slowly  changed  to  the  pain  of  full  belief. 
The  tears  came  into  her  eyes,  and  when  she  spoke  it  was 
with  a  troubled  entreaty  as  if  she  were  pleading  with 
a  wilful  child. 

"Marfa,"  she  said — and  her  voice  was  almost  a 
whisper — "tell  me — you  have  not — yet—  Her 

own  eyes  fell,  but  Marfa  Alexandrovna's  did  not  waver 
in  their  honest  gaze. 

"No,"  said  the  Creole  simply,  "not  yet.  I  told  you  I 
had  not  made  up  my  mind." 

While  they  spoke  a  clock  somewhere  in  the  house 
struck  sharply,  and  went  booming  slowly  on  its  way  to 
twelve.  The  sound  startled  Marfa  Alexandrovna  into 
activity,  and  she  got  quickly  to  her  feet. 

"Go,"  she  cried  hurriedly.  "He  will  be  here  now 
before  you  are  upstairs."  She  pushed  Anna  Gregor 
ovna  to  the  door  as  if  to  help  her  to  a  quicker  going, 
but  the  girl  hung  back  and  made  an  attempt  to  speak. 

"No!  No!"  she  gasped,  "you  must  not  meet  with 
him  to-night.  You  are  not  yourself,  and  I  will  not  go 
and  leave  you  here  alone." 


264  The  Way  of  the  North 

"You  must,"  commanded  Marfa  Alexandrovna. 
"I  will  not  have  you  here.  You  have  no  choice!" 

"I  will  not,"  cried  the  other  stubbornly.  "If  I  did 
I  could  not  answer  to  myself  or  God."  Marfa  Alex- 
androvna's  excitement  grew  from  nervousness  to  quick 
alarm.  She  looked  from  Anna  Gregorovna  to  the 
window  as  if  under  a  spell,  and  from  commanding 
came  down  humbly  to  plead. 

"Anna,"  she  begged,  "there  is  no  time  to  show  you 
how  important  it  is  that  I  should  meet  him  here  alone. 
There  is  no  danger  for  me  in  being  with  him  now.  I 
will  promise  you  anything  if  you  will  only  go.  To 
morrow — some  time — I  will  tell  you  all.  If  you  have 
any  love  or  care  for  me,"  she  went  on  wildly,  wringing 
her  hands  and  speaking  so  fast  that  the  words  fell  over 
each  other  in  her  haste,  "if  you  have  any  thought  for 
your  own  happiness  or  self-respect,  you  will  go  at  once 
without  question,  and  leave  me  here  alone  to  meet  with 
him  to-night." 

Anna  Gregorovna  was  plainly  stirred  by  the  appeal, 
but  she  shook  her  head  mournfully  and  made  no  move 
to  go.  She  began  to  cry  softly  to  herself,  and  her  whole 
body  shook  as  if  with  sudden  chill. 

"  I  must  not,"  she  cried  with  decision.  "  I  have  made 
up  my  mind.  I  will  not  leave  you  here  with  him  alone ! " 

There  was  a  sudden  gasp  from  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
and  I  saw  the  shutter  move.  Like  a  miracle,  the 
tension  of  the  crisis  brought  back  her  self-control;  and 
with  a  stoical  shrug  of  the  shoulders  she  came  back  to 
her  usual  calm. 

"Too  late!"  she  said  quietly;  and  then  turning  to 
the  girl,  "stay  if  you  will;  but  remember  that  I  warned 
you — and  your  blood  be  on  your  own  head ! " 


The  Way  of  the  North  265 

Neither  one  spoke  again,  and  I  watched  with  ab 
sorbing  interest  the  opening  of  the  blind.  It  was  only 
for  a  moment,  for  almost  immediately  behind  the 
shutter  appeared  the  figure  of  a  man  as  he  came 
lightly  across  the  sill.  He  made  absolutely  no  noise, 
but  once  in  the  room  the  light  blinded  him  for  the  instant 
and  he  stood  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and 
looking  under  it  around  the  place. 

Anna  Gregorovna  recognised  him  as  I  did,  and  gave 
a  stifled  cry  of  horror  and  alarm.  It  was  Alexei 
Yegorovitch,  as  I  had  expected,  and  as  I  looked  back 
from  him  to  her  I  saw  that  Marfa  Alexandrovna  had 
taken  her  advantage  and  fled  from  the  apartment,  and 
that  Alexei  Yegorovitch  and  Anna  Gregorovna  stood 
facing  each  other  there  alone. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THERE  is  a  point  in  anguish  that  is  outside  of  speech, 
and  in  the  shock  of  their  strange  meeting  both  Alexei 
Yegorovitch  and  Anna  Gregorovna  compassed  it. 
With  him  there  was  the  realisation  that  the  frame  of 
falsehoods  he  had  for  months  been  building  up  was 
in  the  moment  shaken  down  about  his  feet.  With  her 
the  swift  out-running  of  the  whole  spring  flood  of  hope 
and  happiness  that  for  so  long  had  been  buoying  up 
her  life. 

After  the  first  look  of  open-mouthed  amaze  the  man 
gave  backward  toward  the  window  and  in  his  face 
the  red  spread  upward  like  a  flame.  Anna  Gregorovna 
was  too  stirred  to  move,  but  stood  where  she  had  been, 
with  her  head  forward  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  him  with 
a  steady  stare  of  astonishment  and  unbelief. 

"Is  it  you,  Alexei?"  she  said,  and  her  voice  had  in  it 
as  much  of  anger  as  of  grief.  "Is  it  really  you?" 

He  did  not  answer  and  hung  down  his  head.  She 
swayed  dizzily  in  her  place  and,  chancing  on  a  chair, 
drew  it  to  her  mechanically  and  sat  down.  For  a 
space  that  seemed  interminable  she  remained  looking 
at  him  with  the  same  intent  gaze  of  grievous  challenge, 
until  at  length  the  full  truth  came  to  her  how  she  had 
been  betrayed;  and,  shivering  slightly,  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands  and  began  to  cry  softly  to  herself. 

The  discomfiture  of  Alexei  Yegorovitch  was  still 
too  great  to  trust  itself  to  words.  In  the  beginning  he 

266 


The  Way  of  the  North  267 

had  braced  himself  in  anticipation  of  an  outburst  from 
Anna  Gregorovna  of  bitterness  and  wrath;  and  when 
none  came  he  found  within  him  no  weapon  fitted  to 
defend  him  against  the  gentle  helplessness  of  her 
despair. 

He  stood  his  ground  to  give  her  chance  for  accusa 
tion;  but  when  she  hid  her  face  and  did  not  seem  to 
wish  to  challenge  him,  he  changed  his  mind  and,  turning, 
made  as  if  he  would  again  go  out  by  the  way  that  he 
had  come.  But  Anna  Gregorovna  was  not  thus 
content  to  see  him  go.  The  meagre  noise  he  made  in 
moving  rallied  her,  and  she  raised  up  her  head. 

"Wait,"  she  commanded,  and  beckoned  with  her 
hand.  He  obeyed  her  meekly  arid  came  back  to  her 
again  in  the  ring  of  brighter  light. 

"Is  it  true,  Alexei,"  she  said  searchingly,  "that  it 
was  to  meet  with  Marfa  Alexandrovna  that  you  came 
here  to-night  ? "  He  was  an  honest  man  if  not  a  con 
stant  one,  and  he  would  not  lie  to  her  even  to  save  her 
from  this  pain. 

"Yes,  it  is  true,"  he  said,  but  did  not  look  at  her. 
She  gave  a  little  sobbing  catch  of  the  breath. 

"What  have  I  done,"  she  cried,  "that  you  should 
treat  me  in  this  way?"  Her  forlornness  touched  him 
as  nothing  else  could  have  done,  and  he  gave  a  quick 
step  forward,  stirred  by  the  accustomed  impulse  to 
take  her  in  his  arms.  Some  finer  instinct  in  him  stayed 
him  in  the  act  and  he  remained  leaned  out  to  her, 
moved  and  unhappy  but  without  the  sanction  to  touch 
her  where  she  sat. 

"Anna,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  had  in  it  an  ill- 
concealed  note  of  humiliation,  "in  all  the  time  that 
we  have  been  together,  have  I  ever  either  by  failure  of 


268  The  Way  of  the  North 

service  or  by  active  deed  brought  you  to  feel  that  I  have 
been  unkind  ?  "  She  did  not  answer,  and  he  took  her 
silence  to  imply  dissent. 

"And  since  you  came  to  Sitka  have  you  ever  had  to 
think  that  I  rued  my  promise  to  make  you  my  wife  ?  " 
She  still  was  silent,  though  she  faintly  shook  her  head. 
He  paused  uncomfortably,  not  finding  it  an  easy  matter 
to  go  on. 

"You  have  been  good  to  me,"  he  faltered,  "so 
good  that  just  to  think  of  it  makes  me  bitterly  ashamed; 
and  whatever  you  may  be  thinking  of  me  now  I  cannot 
bear  that  you  should  feel  that  I  would  wittingly  make 
for  you  either  trouble  or  distress." 

"Alexei,"  she  said,  cutting  the  Gordian  knot  and 
going  at  once  to  the  weak  point  in  his  defence.  "Do 
you,  indeed,  love  Marfa  Alexandrovna  so  that  but  for 
her  holding  back  you  would  take  her  now  to  be  your 
wife  instead  of  me?" 

"I  shall  never  marry  Marfa  Alexandrovna,"  he  re 
turned  doggedly,  "  and  you  ought  to  know  that  I  have 
surely  thought  to  marry  you." 

"But  do  you  love  her?"  she  persisted  mercilessly. 

"Yes,  before  God,  I  do!"  he  burst  out  suddenly. 
"  But  that  is  a  thing  you  have  no  right  to  ask.  What  is 
it  to  you  if  I  should  find  her  altogether  sweet,  since  that 
I  make  you  first  and  turn  away  from  her  to  come  to 
you?" 

"There  is  this  right,"  she  answered  quickly,  a  blaze 
of  anger  rising  in  her  eyes.  "I  will  have  no  question 
now  or  afterward  which  of  us  two  shall  have  your  love. 
I  will  be  the  whole,  Alexei,  or  I  will  not  be  anything  at 
all." 

It  was  a  matter  of  astonishment  to  me  that  wishing  as 


The  Way  of  the  North  269 

he  did  honourably  to  be  free  the  man  did  not  sharply 
cut  the  bond  now  that  the  knife  was  ready  to  his  hand. 
But  in  his  vacillating  mind  some  foolish  thread  of  pride 
held  back  the  willingness  to  own  himself  as  wrong;  and 
further  I  could  see  that  as  the  chance  of  losing  Anna 
Gregorovna  rose  clearly  in  his  view,  her  worth  grew 
larger  to  him  at  each  pricking  fear. 

"Surely,"  he  said,  "you  know  you  have  been  first. 
When  have  you  had  a  reason  for  a  doubt  ? " 

"This  one  at  least,  that  you  came  here  to-night  to 
meet  with  Marfa  Baranof.  Why  did  you  come?" 
He  had  no  answer  ready,  and  she  herself  went  on. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  why?"  she  said  scornfully.  "It  is 
because  you  thought  to  hold  us  both  at  once.  It  may 
be  true  that  I  have  been  first  in  your  heart,  Alexei,  but 
part  of  it  at  least  has  gone  to  Marfa  Baranof,  and  I 
have  never  had  the  whole."  He  did  not  attempt  to 
gainsay  her  in  her  accusation,  and  after  waiting  im 
patiently  for  him  for  a  moment,  she  went  on: 

"It  is  true,  you  see.  That  is  why  I  have  the  right. 
You  can  have  her,  Alexei,  or  you  can  have  me,  but  you 
cannot  have  us  both." 

"Well,"  he  said  finally,  "what  do  you  want  me  to 
do?"  She  stopped  sobbing  and  lifted  up  her  face. 

"There  is  nothing  to  do  now,  Alexei.  It  is  all  done." 
Then,  stirred  by  some  sudden  impulse  of  her  wrong, 
she  covered  her  face  again  and  cried  out  through  her 
close-pressed  hands,  "Oh,  it  is  hard!  Why  could  you 
not  have  loved  me  as  you  said  ? " 

"I  do  love  you,"  he  cried  passionately,  and  came 
quickly  up  to  where  she  sat. 

"Anna,"  he  pleaded,  and  his  voice  showed  that  for 
the  moment  at  least  he  believed  each  sentence  that  he 


270  The  Way  of  the  North 

spoke,  "surely,  you  cannot  think  of  me  as  wholly 
bad.  You  will  not  deny  that  you  have  thought  I  cared. 
Even  if  I  have  done  wrong  in  meeting  Marfa  here,  I 
can  explain  the  matter  and  show  that  there  was  a  reason 
for  it  all.  And  whatever  may  have  been  my  dereliction, 
you  must  see  that  I  love  you  now  and  have  no  thought 
for  anyone  but  you ! "  But  she  was  not  to  be  beguiled 
by  his  intensity,  and  showed  no  sign  of  being  pacified 
by  what  he  urged. 

"I  cannot  believe  one  thing  you  say!"  she  burst  out 
bitterly.  "You  tell  me  this  to-night  and  to-morrow 
you  \vill  say  the  same  to  Marfa  Baranof." 

"Anna,"  he  declared  with  the  most  intense  conviction, 
"never  since  you  came  out  to  me  here  at  Sitka  have  I 
expected  to  make  Marfa  Baranof  my  wife." 

"I  could  hate  you  for  that,"  she  retorted  angrily, 
"for  if  you  did  not,  you  have  held  her  as  something 
worse."  Alexei  Yegorovitch  straightened  himself  and 
involuntarily  bowed  his  head. 

"Marfa  Alexandrovna  is  a  good  woman,"  he  said 
almost  with  reverence.  "I  have  never  had  an  evil 
thought  about  her  in  my  life." 

"How  could  you  help  it  when  you  planned  to  take 
her,  knowing  that  you  could  not  marry  her  honestly 
under  the  law?" 

"It  is  not  true,"  he  asserted  indignantly.  "Why 
do  you  slander  her  in  this  way  ? " 

"It  is  true,"  she  repeated  with  vehemence,  "for 
Marfa  Alexandrovna  herself  so  owned  to  me  here 
to-night." 

"  Marfa  Alexandrovna  ?  " 

"Yes,  Marfa  Alexandrovna!  She  told  me  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  go  to  you  in  this  way ! " 


The  Way  of  the  North  271 

He  still  had  in  his  manner  the  deference  of  his  last 
thought  of  Baranof 's  daughter,  and  now  leaned  forward 
toward  Anna  Gregorovna  with  an  air  of  astonished 
incredulity  and  unbelief. 

"Did  she  say  that?"  he  demanded  wonderingly. 

"She  did."  He  stood  considering,  and  as  he  caught 
the  full  meaning  of  the  thing,  his  rare  smile  broke  out 
for  a  moment  on  his  face. 

"God  bless  her!"  he  said  under  his  breath;  yet  not 
so  softly  but  Anna  Gregorovna  heard. 

"You  do  love  her!"  she  cried  wildly,  springing  to 
her  feet.  "I  have  never  been  the  first!"  He  came 
back  to  himself  in  a  moment,  but  it  was  too  late. 

"Go,"  she  said  convulsively.  "I  never  want  to  see 
you  again!"  He  turned  to  her  and  strove  insistently 
to  make  her  listen  to  his  pleas. 

"I  will  not  go,"  he  said  stoutly,  "until  you  promise 
me  that  you  will  let  me  come  to  you  again  and  show 
you  all  the  truth.  We  have  been  too  near  together  to 
have  you  let  me  fall  away  from  you  unheard.  I  have 
some  right  in  this  as  well  as  you  and  you  shall  not  be 
so  bitterly  unfair  to  me."  She  listened  to  him  patiently, 
but  did  not  relent. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  promise  any 
thing  to-night.  ' 

"  Oh,  you  are  hard ! "  he  cried  feelingly.  She  resented 
the  imputation  and  her  anger  grew. 

"I  may  be  hard  but  I  am  honest,"  she  said  sig 
nificantly,  "and  I  will  not  say  that  which  I  do  not 
mean."  He  laughed  inconsequently  and  drew  up  his 
shoulders  in  a  shrug. 

"Very  well,"  he  said.  "Then  it  only  remains  to  me 
to  go,  Good-bye."  He  held  out  his  hand  to  her  in 


272  The  Way  of  the  North 

parting,  but  she  would  not  take  it  and  hid  her  own 
hands  behind  her  in  her  gown. 

"Not  to-night,"  she  said  forbiddingly.  "It  will  be 
time,  Alexei,  when  I  know  that  it  is  clean."  He 
laughed  again  nervously,  bowed  to  her  profoundly, 
and  walked  slowly  away  to  the  window  across  the 
room.  Through  it  all  he  kept  the  utmost  dignity  of 
poise  and,  at  the  last,  he  turned  with  another  profound 
courtesy,  straightened  himself,  passed  through  the 
window,  and  was  gone. 

Anna  Gregorovna  remained  where  she  was  till  it 
was  certain  he  was  really  away.  But  this  once  sure, 
the  strong  reaction  came,  and  she  went  swiftly  to  the 
bench  where  she  had  sat  with  Marfa  Alexandrovna, 
and  throwing  herself  upon  it  with  her  head  on  a  table 
near  at  hand,  poured  out  her  grief  in  a  great  flood  of 
tears. 

It  is  given  to  some  men  never  to  play  the  fool,  but  I 
have  no  conviction  I  am  one  of  them.  So  long  as 
Marfa  Alexandrovna  and  Alexei  Yegorovitch  were  on 
the  scene,  there  came  to  me  no  prompting,  unasked,  to 
interfere.  It  was  like  a  fantastic  play  at  which  it  was 
my  privilege  to  sit  and  watch,  and  I  had  found  no 
qualms  in  waiting  to  see  it  played  out  to  the  very  end. 

But  when  the  two  were  gone  and  Anna  Gregorovna 
was  before  me  in  the  desolate  abandon  of  her  grief,  it 
fairly  took  the  fortitude  that  I  possessed  to  keep  me 
back  from  going  to  her  in  her  need.  A  dozen  times  I 
made  the  initial  move  and  then  found  sense  to  fight  the 
impulse  back. 

There  could  have  been  but  one  way  for  me  in  the 
end,  if  chance  had  not  arranged  to  thwart  me  in  the 
desperate  foolishness.  In  my  uneasy  stir,  an  arm  struck 


The  Way  of  the  North  273 

some  small  thing  behind  me  on  a  shelf,  and  with  a  clat 
ter  it  came  down  upon  the  floor. 

The  sound  was  startling,  coming  in  the  night,  and 
Anna  Gregorovna  could  not  help  but  hear  it.  She 
raised  her  head  sharply  and  listened  for  the  noise,  while 
her  look  went  searchingly  into  the  shadows  in  swift 
challenge  of  its  cause.  My  heart  was  beating  so  it  did 
not  seem  that  she  could  fail  to  hear  it  and  so  find  me 
out;  but  after  a  moment's  wait  she  reassured  herself 
and  settled  back  again  to  her  despair. 

But  the  homely  interruption  had  served  unconsciously 
to  loosen  the  high  tension  of  her  grief  and  made  her 
more  alive  to  bodily  discomforts  and  distress.  It  was 
not  long  before  she  stirred  uneasily  and  sighed  aloud; 
and  in  the  end  got  up  from  where  she  sat,  shook  out 
her  dress,  took  up  the  lamp  which  had  begun  to  flicker 
and  burn  low,  and  raising  it  as  a  guide  above  her  head, 
passed  from  the  room  and  softly  behind  her  closed  the 
door. 

With  her  went  out  the  whole  excitement  of  the  night. 
I  waited  long  for  the  light-fingered  soul  who,  if  our 
plans  were  right,  should  come  to  glean  in  this  forbidden 
field;  but  all  the  hours  there  was  no  sound  or  sight  of 
him  to  show  him  certainly  a  thing  of  flesh.  It  may 
be  Baranof  s  plans  were  not  well  laid  or,  better,  that 
the  noise  and  troubles  of  the  night  had  served  to  frighten 
him. 

But  be  that  as  it  may,  I  made  no  prisoner  and  saw 
no  theft,  but  sitting  there  idly  in  the  quiet  dark,  I  found 
full  time  to  meditate  on  what  had  gone  before.  I  did 
not  find  the  waiting  hard  to  bear.  I  had  found  dis 
comfort  in  the  sight  of  Anna  Gregorovna's  grief,  and 
there  still  flamed  within  me  a  dull  blaze  of  resentment 


274  The  Way  of  the  North 

against  the  man  who  had  brought  her  to  this  pass. 
But,  stronger  than  both  these  pains,  there  leaped  in 
my  whole  blood  the  exultant  certainty  that  the  end  had 
come  in  the  affairs  of  Alexei  Yegorovitch  and  Anna 
Gregorovna,  and  that  the  outcome  had  been  all  that 
I  could  wish  in  furtherance  of  my  own  desires. 

No  less  disquieting  was  the  problem  how  much  of  all 
these  things  should  be  disclosed  to  Baranof.  It  was 
in  his  interest  I  had  been  set  to  watch;  and  while  the 
thing  discovered  had  nothing  to  do  with  Lebedef  or 
Company  affairs,  it  did,  in  a  way,  affect  his  peace  of 
mind  and  so  made  lien  on  my  responsibility. 

Then,  too,  I  much  disliked  to  think  of  facing  Baranof 
with  any  but  clear  eyes.  His  trust  in  me  had  been 
entire,  and  he  deserved  that  in  no  point  I  should  evade 
or  be  uncandid  with  him.  On  the  other  hand,  though, 
I  could  not  see  what  good  could  come  to  him  from 
being  told,  and  there  was  no  knowing  what  harm  might 
issue  to  the  lovers'  plans,  should  he  at  hearing  be 
wrongly  moved  to  interfere. 

The  more  I  thought  about  this  last,  the  less  I  found 
myself  inclined  to  tell;  and  when  the  morning  came 
and  with  it  Baranof,  I  had  digested  the  matter  fully 
in  my  mind  and  made  my  vow  that  he  should  never 
know. 

He  came  in  briskly,  smiling,  and  with  a  quick  glance 
around  the  room.  His  eyes  were  alight,  and  he  spoke 
with  the  certainty  of  assured  success. 

"Well,  who  was  it?"  he  said  impatiently. 

"There  has  been  no  attempt,"  I  answered  slowly, 
striving  so  far  as  in  me  lay  to  appear  rightly  uncon 
cerned.  The  light  went  suddenly  out  of  Baranof 's 
eyes,  and  his  jaws  set  together  with  a  snap.  His  eye- 


The  Way  of  the  North  275 

lids  narrowed  to  a  line,  and  he  looked  at  me  with  search 
ing  suspicion. 

"You  are  sure  ?"  he  said  from  between  his  teeth. 

"Yes,  I  am  sure." 

"And  you  have  watched  here  without  failing  all  night 
long?" 

"Yes.  I  have  not  left  this  closet  for  a  moment  since 
you  went  away."  Baranof's  eyes  went  from  me  for 
another  quick  look  around  the  room,  and  he  laughed 
with  the  air  of  one  who  has  caught  his  adversary  nap 
ping  and  is  about  to  push  his  vantage  home. 

"If  that  is  true,"  he  said  slowly,  "how  does  it  come 
that  the  shutter  yonder  is  unbarred  ?  "  The  catch  was 
so  complete  that  I  had  no  word  to  answer  him.  I 
stood  in  helpless  silence,  oppressed  not  only  by  the 
cloud  of  decent  shame  that  blinded  my  own  eyes,  but 
also  by  the  sense  of  keen  reproach  I  saw  in  his.  Bara 
nof's  face  flushed  in  temper,  and  I  braced  myself  for  the 
expected  explosion  of  his  wrath.  But  he  held  himself 
strongly,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  with  a  spirit  of  wist 
ful  curiosity  rather  than  one  of  unreasoning  rage. 

"Are  all  men  alike,"  he  demanded  bitterly,  "or  is 
there  some  rare  lack  in  me  that  no  man — not  even  the 
one  I  trust  and  call  my  friend — will  tell  me  the  truth  ?" 

"I  have  not  lied  to  you,  Alexander  Andreievitch,"  I 
answered,  trying  to  be  calm.  "I  said  there  had  been 
no  attempt,  and  that  is  true." 

"Then  there  was  some  one  here?" 

"Yes,  but  it  was  neither  a  robber  nor  a  spy." 

"Why  did  you  not  say  so  at  the  first?"  he  objected 
fretfully.  "I  had  a  right  to  the  entire  truth." 

"Because,  in  my  judgment,  it  was  better  both  for 
you  and  others  that  I  should  not  tell.  I  will  tell  you 


276  The  Way  of  the  North 

now  if  you  command  it,  but  the  meeting  was  not  an 
affair  of  state,  but  of  the  heart." 

"Ah!  a  love  affair!"  he  ejaculated  softly,  and  stood 
looking  straight  ahead,  while  he  weighed  swiftly  in 
his  mind  who  the  offending  personages  might  be.  It 
did  not  take  him  long,  however,  to  ferret  out  the  truth, 
and  turning  back  to  me  with  searching  questioning,  he 
said  abruptly: 

"Which  of  the  two  was  it  that  let  the  lieutenant  in?" 

"They  were  both  here,"  I  answered,  "but  Anna 
Gregorovna  talked  with  him  alone." 

"Tell  me  the  whole,  man!"  he  burst  out  impatiently. 
"  Can  you  not  see  that  I  have  got  to  know  ?  " 

Beginning  with  the  first  coming  of  Marfa  Alex- 
androvna,  I  related  to  him  the  full  happenings  of  the 
night.  He  listened  with  attention,  but  with  slight 
comment  or  remark.  When  I  spoke  of  Marfa  Ekater- 
ina's  bitterness  at  finding  herself  outside  the  law,  he 
sibilantly  drew  in  his  breath. 

"So  they  have  stung  her  with  that  poison,  have 
they?"  he  said  absently.  "I  will  soon  put  an  end  to 
that." 

At  the  narrative  of  Marfa's  flight  and  the  sur 
prise  of  Alexei  Yegorovitch  in  finding  Anna  Gregor 
ovna  in  her  stead,  his  face  set  in  a  grim  smile  of 
satisfaction. 

"Not  so  bad,"  he  murmured.  "I  should  have  liked 
to  see  the  thing  myself."  But  it  was  when  I  came  to 
the  reflection  on  Marfa  Alexandrovna's  honour  that  he 
uncorked  the  vials  of  his  wrath.  He  stood  licking  his 
lips  while  I  set  the  matter  out,  the  blaze  of  his  anger 
growing  steadily  in  his  eyes. 

"That  is  enough,"  he  said  finally,  stopping  me  before 


The  Way  of  the  North  277 

I  had  come  to  the  end.  "Come,  we  will  look  for  the 
young  man." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  asked  fearfully. 

"What  is  there  to  do, "  he  answered  heatedly,  "except 
just  one  thing?  I  am  going  to  kill  him  as  sure  as  I  am 
a  man!"  He  turned  to  start  upon  his  task  of  justice, 
but  before  he  had  gone  a  yard  I  had  him  by  the  arm. 

"You  fool!"  I  said.  " Do  you  want  to  spoil  the  only 
chance  of  happiness  Marfa  Ekaterina  still  has?  Can 
you  not  see  that  since  Alexei  Yegorovitch  has  quar 
relled  with  Anna  Gregorovna,  he  will  surely  wish  to 
make  Marfa  Ekaterina  his  wife  ?  " 

"It  is  not  that,"  he  roared.  "It  is  my  own  honour 
that  is  touched!" 

"Be  calm,"  I  urged.  "What  would  it  count  with 
you  if  you  should  salve  your  honour,  if  thereby  you 
made  for  her  a  sorrow  that  would  be  lifelong  ? " 

"She  is  too  good  for  him.  He  does  not  deserve  to 
have  her  for  a  wife!" 

"But  she  loves  him  as  you  know,  and  from  what  I 
guess  of  her  condition,  if  she  should  lose  him,  I  would 
not  answer  for  her  life."  He  frowned  and  fumed,  but 
would  not  give  it  up. 

"Let  me  go,"  he  said  roughly  and  wrested  his  arm 
from  my  grasp.  He  made  no  motion  to  go  on  with  his 
plan,  but  turned  directly  across  the  room  to  a  cup 
board  in  the  wall  which  he  opened  with  a  key.  From 
this  he  took  a  brandy  bottle  and  a  glass,  and  pouring 
out  a  generous  portion,  drank  it  at  a  draught.  The 
liquor  quieted  him  and  he  came  back  to  me  with  more 
of  his  usual  calm. 

"Come  out,"  he  said,  "and  make  yourself  known. 
I  have  no  further  heart  for  this  spying  business.  God 


278  The  Way  of  the  North 

knows  what  we  would  get  if  we  tried  it  a  second  time. 
Let  it  keep  till  another  day.  Go  to  the  archiman 
drite's  house,  not  the  barracks,  for  your  place.  I 
have  had  it  made  ready  for  you  and  for  the  priest. 
Settle  yourself  and  get  about  your  work  as  you  can." 

"And  you,"  I  ventured,  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  "will 
you  let  the  lieutenant  go?"  He  hesitated  a  moment 
before  answering. 

"For  the  moment,  yes,"  he  said  soberly.  "But 
beyond  that  I  will  not  say.  He  has  attempted  my  own 
flesh  and  blood,  and  I  will  never  forgive  him  so  long 
as  we  both  shall  live." 


CHAPTER  XX 

IT  was  a  thoughtful  thing  in  Alexander  Baranof  so 
to  arrange  for  Joassaf  Petrovitch  that  he  should  have 
a  place  apart.  No  prop  for  courage  could  have  seemed 
more  sure  to  the  old  man  than  the  certainty  that  there 
was  for  him  a  final  sanctuary  to  which  at  will  he  could 
retire.  In  the  barracks  he  could  not  at  any  time  have 
felt  he  was  alone.  But  in  the  archimandrite's  house 
his  room  was  sacred  to  him,  and  when  the  door  was 
closed  he  could  strip  off  the  pretence  and  lay  bare  his 
soul  without  a  fear  of  prying  intervention. 

The  great  boat  was  quicker  in  coming  than  we 
thought,  and  he  and  Peter  Nicolaievitch  landed  from 
it  on  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day.  It  had  been  a  scant 
twelve  hours  and  twelve  since  I  had  seen  the  pope, 
but  in  his  quick  homecoming  I  found  a  thrill  that  longer 
absence  could  not  have  made  more  keen.  It  pleased 
him,  too,  to  find  me  waiting  for  him,  and  scarcely  was 
he  ashore  than  he  had  me  in  his  arms. 

"How  is  it,  Joassaf,"  I  said,  "has  everything  gone 
well?"  His  eyes  still  had  the  timid  look  that  had 
become  a  habit  with  him  during  his  troubles  of  the  past 
few  weeks,  and  even  as  he  held  me  I  saw  his  glance  go 
furtively  from  face  to  face  among  the  crowd  in  fear  of 
derisive  recognition. 

"It  is  good  to  see  you  again,"  he  murmured,  and 
tightened  his  arms  about  me  with  a  hug,  "and  the  place 
is  like  home  with  so  many  faces  that  I  know.  But, 

279 


a8o  The  Way  of  the  North 

Fedor,"  he  said,  bending  till  his  mouth  was  fairly 
against  my  ear,  "I  trust  there  has  been  no  whisper  of 
our  trouble  at  the  post." 

"No,  not  the  faintest  sound,"  I  answered  promptly. 
"There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  wholly  be  at 
peace."  He  sighed  contentedly,  and  disengaged  him 
self  from  my  embrace,  and  with  a  dash  of  his  old  self- 
possession  set  about  overseeing  the  landing  of  his  bag 
gage  and  his  dog. 

When  the  house  was  reached  he  entered  into  its  pos 
session  with  all  the  importance  of  a  child.  He  planned 
the  stowing  of  his  goods,  and  assigned  to  me  the  cham 
ber  he  thought  best  fitted  to  my  needs;  and  in  the 
safety  and  freedom  of  the  new  life,  threw  off  for  the 
first  time  the  incubus  of  care  that  for  so  long  had  been 
a  weight  upon  his  soul. 

"I  shall  not  try  to  fill  the  archimandrite's  shoes,"  he 
said  humbly,  "for  not  only  do  my  cassock  and  my 
training  render  me  unfit,  but  I  am  an  old  man  now  and 
have  not  half  the  care  for  rank  I  have  for  peace.  But 
so  long  as  there  is  no  other  priest  in  Sitka  I  will  minister 
to  the  people  here,  and  do  for  them  as  if  they  were 
my  own."  It  pleased  me  to  find  him  thus  content  in 
coming  back,  though  I  had  yet  the  haunting  fear  he 
would  not  stay.  I  wanted  to  be  sure  he  was  through 
with  the  delusion  that  before  had  taken  him  afield,  and 
waiting  till  he  had  finished  with  his  homily,  I  said : 

"And  the  natives;  will  you  find  enough  of  them  here 
to  fill  your  need?"  He  looked  at  me  searchingly,  as 
if  to  question  why  I  asked,  but  he  did  not  answer  to  the 
challenge  with  the  certainty  of  old,  and  after  a  moment's 
steadiness  his  eyes  fell. 

"I  shall  wait  and  see,"  he  said  humbly.     "I  am  not 


The  Way  of  the  North  281 

so  sure  of  vision  as  I  was.  God  has  given  me  a  lesson, 
Fedor,  I  shall  not  soon  forget,  and  I  have  come — oh, 
with  bitterness,  have  come! — to  know  that  it  will  not 
do  to  be  too  certain  of  myself." 

From  the  moment  of  his  arrival  neither  I  nor  Joassaf 
Petrovitch  found  free  time  for  looking  back.  The 
plague  still  held  a  senile  grip  on  both  Malemutes  and 
whites,  and  in  more  than  one  house  of  the  post  we  found 
unburied  dead.  All  that  night  and  the  next  day  we 
laboured  side  by  side,  and  it  was  full  afternoon  again 
before  I  had  checked  the  final  tally  of  my  sick  and  he 
had  shrived  his  last  penitent. 

When  the  round  was  made,  and  we  were  slowly 
walking  back  to  the  house  which  we  called  home,  for 
the  first  time  since  I  returned  to  the  post  I  found  the 
time  to  think  of  other  things.  My  heart  went  down, 
and  I  felt  go  from  me  the  exultant  uplift  that  had 
come  to  me  from  being  again  among  my  kind.  Much 
of  it  no  doubt  was  due  to  weariness  and  the  strain 
of  being  so  long  near  to  misery  and  death.  But  aside 
from  this  I  found  a  keen  depression  in  the  contemplation 
of  the  way  that  things  had  shaped  themselves  around 
me  at  the  post.  It  was  a  special  cause  for  grievance 
that  I  had  got  no  intercourse  with  any  of  the  men  and 
women  whose  presence  there  had  made  it  seem  worth 
while  to  journey  backward  to  the  place. 

But  Peter  Nicolaievitch  and  Alexei  Yegorovitch  were 
both  busy  with  their  daily  work.  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
made  virtue  of  her  illness  to  remain  concealed.  Anna 
Gregorovna  too,  elected  to  work  out  her  problem  in  the 
quiet  of  her  own  room,  and  Alexander  Andreievitch  had 
sunk  into  one  of  his  fits  of  spleen  and  gone  into  retire 
ment  with  his  bottle,  to  brood  upon  his  wrongs 


282  The  Way  of  the  North 

and  drink  himself  so  far  as  might  be  toward  forget- 
fulness. 

I  might  have  forced  myself  on  Marfa  Alexandrovna 
by  virtue  of  my  craft ;  but  she  of  all  of  them  had  suffered 
most,  and  I  did  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  flush  her 
from  her  cover  when  she  desired  peace.  It  was  Anna 
Gregorovna  of  course  that  I  yearned  the  most  to  see. 
My  heart  was  full  of  her  and  her  pleasant  ways,  and 
while — as  in  the  pope's  case — I  had  set  myself  positively 
on  record  as  having  no  belief  in  God-appointed  tasks, 
yet  down  in  my  heart  I  found  the  sure  conviction  that 
Providence  had  constituted  me  a  special  messenger  to 
comfort  her  and  bring  her  tidings  of  good  cheer. 

My  long  absence  furnished  full  excuse  for  formal 
visitation,  and  almost  on  the  heels  of  the  thought  I 
found  myself  looking  up  at  the  sun  in  calculation 
whether  or  no  there  would  be  time  to  set  my  clothes 
aright  and  go  to  her  before  the  dinner  hour.  And  so 
looking  I  was  sufficiently  absorbed  that  I  did  not  see  the 
blind  boy,  Paul  Alexandrovitch,  there  before  me,  until 
I  was  quite  upon  him  in  the  way. 

He  was  with  a  serving-maid  who  had  in  her  more  or 
less  of  native  blood.  She  had  checked  him  so  that  he 
should  wait  to  let  us  pass,  and  now  held  him  by  the 
sleeve,  while  he  strained  forward  impatiently,  pushing 
out  his  head  that  no  sound  of  our  coming  should  escape 
his  ear. 

"Who  is  it,  Masha,  that  you  should  hold  me  back?" 
he  demanded.  "Is  it  some  one  that  I  do  not  know?" 
I  went  forward  to  him  at  once,  and  took  his  hand  in 
mine.  Some  fancy  moved  me  not  to  speak  my  name, 
but  wait  to  test  his  recollection  and  see  if  he  would 
know.  His  other  hand  came  quickly  to  the  one  I 


The  Way  of  the  North  283 

held,  and  as  when  he  had  seen  me  first,  he  ran  his 
fingers  lightly  over  mine. 

'"'I  know  you,"  he  cried  with  a  little  shout  of  joy. 
"It  is  Fedor  Kirilovitch,  who  let  me  touch  the  cow.  I 
did  touch  her,  did  I  not,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,  though 
Anna  Gregorovna  said  I  was  afraid." 

"You  were  a  brave  boy,"  I  answered,  "and  I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  remember  what  I  said.  But  where 
are  you  going,  and  how  does  it  happen  that  this  one  is 
with  you  now?" 

"  Masha  ?  Because  Marfa  is  sick,  and  Anna  Gregor 
ovna  is  in  her  room  asleep,  and  there  was  no  one  else 
to  bring  me,  when  it  was  time  for  me  to  go  out  into  the 
air." 

"Where  are  you  going  now ?"  I  said  again. 

"You  shall  go  with  me,"  he  cried,  dancing  up  and 
down  in  his  delight.  "We  are  going  to  the  warehouse 
to  see  them  put  in  the  skins.  I  like  to  hear  the  men 
sing  and  the  noise  as  they  throw  the  bundles  from  hand 
to  hand." 

"I  have  never  heard  them,"  I  said.  "This  is  the 
first  time  since  I  have  been  here  that  they  have  put  in 
the  skins." 

"Then  come  with  me,"  he  urged,  "and  we  will  see 
together  how  it  is  done."  I  thought  the  matter  over 
quickly.  If  Anna  Gregorovna  was  asleep,  as  Paul  had 
said,  I  should  not  want  to  waken  her  without  a  cause, 
and  if  I  yielded  to  the  child's  desire,  I  might  have 
chance  for  speech  with  Alexei  Yegorovitch  or  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  himself. 

"I  will  go,"  I  answered,  "if  you  will  show  me  the 
way."  He  clapped  his  hands  delightedly  together. 

"Good!"   he   said.    "I   will.    I   know   the   way." 


284  The  Way  of  the  North 

Then  turning  to  the  maid  he  ran  to  her  and  gave  her  a 
little  push. 

"You  may  go  now,  Masha,"  he  said  peremptorily. 
"I  shall  not  need  you  any  more."  The  woman  laughed 
and  held  him  back. 

"  But  the  calf,"  she  said.  "  You  were  going  to  see  the 
calf."  Paul  Alexandrovitch  paused  uncertainly  and 
turned  his  face  to  me. 

"There  is  a  calf,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  he  said  irreso 
lutely,  "a  calf  that  has  just  been  born." 

"Can  we  not  see  it  before  we  go  to  the  warehouse ?" 
I  suggested.  "I  think  there  will  be  time."  The  boy's 
face  cleared  at  once. 

"Fedor  Kirilovitch  will  show  me  the  calf,  Masha," 
he  said,  with  dismissal  in  his  tone.  "And  after  all  it 
is  better  I  should  go  there  with  a  man."  The  woman 
was  both  fond  of  the  child  and  accustomed  to  his 
whims;  for  without  further  question  she  bent  and 
kissed  him  on  the  forehead,  and  with  a  courtesy  to  me 
went  quickly  away. 

I  took  the  boy  by  the  hand  and  set  briskly  out  for  the 
meadow  near  the  stables  where  we  had  before  seen  the 
cow.  The  pope,  who  had  been  a  sympathetic  listener 
to  our  talk,  fell  in  behind  and  came  along  with  us. 
The  child  was  full  of  what  he  was  to  see,  and  chattered 
on  without  a  break  for  answer.  But  I  was  not  so 
bound  up  in  my  thought,  and  at  the  first  view  of  the 
animals  we  had  come  to  see,  I  made  sure  that  something 
with  them  was  amiss. 

Two  yards  had  been  constructed  in  the  open  space  so 
that  the  two  animals  might  be  close  together  and  yet 
held  apart.  In  one  there  was  a  commotion  in  which  it 
was  not  easy  to  distinguish  forms,  and  in  the  other  the 


The  Way  of  the  North  285 

cow  ran  wildly  up  and  down  along  the  fence,  vainly  en 
deavouring  to  break  through  the  bars,  and  lowing 
frantically  in  her  anxiety. 

"Take  care  of  the  boy,"  I  said  to  Joassaf  Petrovitch; 
and  letting  go  his  hand  I  ran  with  all  my  speed  across 
the  field.  The  tragedy  was  over  before  I  reached  the 
spot,  for  when  I  was  near  enough  to  look  into  the  yard 
the  calf  had  ceased  to  struggle  and  lay  upon  its  side, 
and  a  good-sized  dog  was  shaking  it  and  tearing  at  its 
throat. 

I  shouted  at  the  beast  as  I  came  up,  and  climbed  the 
fence  as  quickly  as  I  could.  But  so  engrossed  was  it  in 
its  bloody  work  that  it  was  not  until  I  kicked  it  soundly 
in  the  ribs  that  it  came  back  to  itself  and  let  the  little 
creature  go.  For  an  instant  its  blood-fierceness  held, 
and  it  turned  upon  me  with  a  growl  and  vicious  show 
of  teeth.  Then,  as  with  all  cowards,  its  prudence  came 
upon  it  with  a  rush,  and  with  a  parting  snap  at  my  legs 
as  it  went  by,  it  bolted  away  across  the  inclosure, 
crawled  through  a  hole  where  the  palings  had  not  been 
driven  close,  and  disappeared.  There  was  something 
familiar  in  the  manner  of  its  attack,  and  I  turned  to 
follow  it  more  closely  with  my  eyes;  and  so  standing, 
almost  at  once  I  heard  the  voice  of  Paul  Alexandrovitch 
in  excited  call. 

"  What  is  it,  Fedor  Kirilovitch  ?  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 
he  cried  in  his  high,  shrill  voice.  "Come  at  once  and 
let  us  in."  Joassaf  Petrovitch  must  have  run  with 
him,  for  they  already  stood  close  against  the  fence. 
The  priest  undid  the  fastenings  of  the  gate,  and  brought 
the  child  to  where  I  stood.  He  was  breathing  hard 
with  the  exercise  and  excitement,  and  took  hold  of  me 
with  both  his  hands. 


286  The  Way  of  the  North 

"What  was  it,  Fedor  Kirilovitch ? "  he  repeated  im 
ploringly.  "Why  did  you  have  to  run?" 

"It  was  to  save  the  calf/'  I  answered.  "It  was  being 
attacked  by  a  dog." 

"Where  is  it?"  he  demanded.  "Was  it  very  badly 
hurt?" 

"I  am  afraid  it  was.  It  is  lying  in  front  of  you,  at 
your  feet."  He  stooped  down  and  put  his  hand  on  the 
little  animal,  which  now  lay  entirely  still. 

"Poor  thing,"  he  said.  "And  did  you  see  what  dog 
it  was  that  did  it?" 

"No,"  I  returned.  "It  ran  away  too  fast."  But  as 
I  spoke  I  chanced  to  glance  at  Joassaf  Petrovitch,  and 
there  was  on  his  face  so  strange  a  look  of  shame  and 
guilt  that  like  a  flash  it  came  to  me  why  there  had 
seemed  something  familiar  in  the  dog's  last  onslaught 
on  my  legs,  and  I  knew  that  I  had  missed  the  truth 
when  I  said  I  did  not  know  to  whom  the  beast  belonged. 
I  looked  at  the  pope  with  searching  inquiry. 

"Was  it  a  usual  lapse  for  a  convert,"  I  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "or  did  he  experience  a  change  of  heart?"  He 
blushed  to  the  eyes  like  a  conscious  girl  and  answered 
to  the  spirit  of  my  question  rather  than  the  words. 

"Oh,  no!  no!"  he  murmured  brokenly.  "It  could 
not  be.  He  would  not  do  it!  Besides  he  was  tethered 
strongly  with  a  rope." 

"You  had  better  be  sure  of  that  before  they  make  a 
search." 

"I  will,"  he  said  eagerly,  "though  I  do  not  believe  it. 
I  will  go  at  once."  I  watched  with  sympathy  his 
retreating  figure  until  he  was  well  out  of  sight,  and  then 
turned  round  again  to  the  stooping  child.  He  was 
talking  to  the  stricken  animal  in  low  tones  and  passing 


The  Way  of  the  North  287 

his  hand  lightly  over  it  here  and  there.  But  as  he 
moved  along  the  little  creature's  neck  his  fingers 
chanced  into  the  gash  torn  in  its  skin  that  had  been 
made  by  the  teeth  of  the  dog.  The  touch  of  the  blood 
was  unpleasant  to  him,  and  with  a  shudder  he  wiped  his 
hand  hastily  upon  the  dryer  hair  and  got  quickly  to  his 
feet. 

"Come,"  he  said.  "I  do  not  like  this  animal  any 
more.  Let  us  go  somewhere  else." 

"But,"  I  urged,  "what  is  the  matter  with  it?  A 
little  while  ago,  you  were  anxious  to  come." 

"  It  is  dead,"  he  said  with  a  shiver  of  distaste. 

"But  it  will  not  hurt  you  dead,  any  more  than  it 
would  alive." 

"  I  know  it,"  he  answered,  "  but  it  is  different.  Come, 
let  us  go  away."  There  was  nothing  further  to  be  done, 
so  I  yielded  to  his  whim,  and  we  set  out  for  the  ware 
house  in  accordance  with  our  original  plan.  The  child 
was  sobered  by  the  accident  and  did  not  talk,  and  it 
was  not  until  our  destination  was  fairly  reached  that 
he  regained  his  natural  buoyancy  of  poise. 

The  storehouse  for  the  furs  was,  next  to  the  great 
house  where  the  commander  lived,  the  largest  building 
in  the  post.  Just  now  the  level  at  its  front  was  strewn 
with  the  flattened,  compact  packages  of  skins  that 
waited  to  be  sorted  out  and  carried  to  their  final  place 
within  the  walls.  Each  bale  on  coming  from  the  boat 
had  had  its  water  dip  and,  exposed  for  two  days  to  the 
hot  summer  sun,  both  thongs  and  covers  were  shrunken 
hard  and  stiff. 

A  line  of  men  ran  from  the  piles  to  the  wide-open  doors 
and  passed  the  bales  from  hand  to  hand  of  one  another 
with  a  steady  rhythmic  motion.  Inside,  the  scene 


288  The  Way  of  the  North 

was  like  a  vision  from  a  different  world.  There  were 
no  windows  in  fhe  great  cavernous  place,  &nd  its 
darkness  was  only  made  more  visible  by  the  torches  set 
here  and  there  to  give  the  workers  light. 

There  wras  a  cleared  place  or  passage  the  whole 
length  of  the  front,  but  the  main  floor  space  wras 
filled  with  bales  of  skins  piled  one  upon  another  so 
high  above  the  head  that  the  eye  lost  the  topmost 
layers  in  the  gloom.  A  central  aisle  ran  crossways 
through  the  stack,  and  two  other  narrower  ways  were 
left  on  either  side.  The  walls  of  these  passageways 
were  sheer,  the  flat  bales  standing  fairly  well  when 
piled  upon  themselves.  But  to  make  all  safe,  rough 
posts  were  raised  at  intervals  in  the  aisleways,  on 
either  side,  with  crossbeams  wedged  horizontally 
between,  to  bind  and  hold  there  with  the  pressure,  and 
so  reduce  the  strain. 

Against  the  front  of  each  stack,  two  ladders  stood, 
and  up  and  down  them  a  continuous  stream  of  workers 
went  panting  with  the  bales.  Each  man  had  on  his 
back  a  kind  of  cage  made  of  withes  and  thongs,  in 
which  he  received  one  of  the  bales  that  came  in  through 
the  door.  Thus  loaded  he  at  once  began  ascent,  and 
at  the  top  the  bale  was  seized  and  plucked  away  by 
active  waiting  hands,  so  that  the  man  was  left  load- 
lightened  to  cross  at  once  to  the  other  ladder  and 
descend. 

The  man  at  the  top,  the  bale  once  in  his  hands, 
turned  swiftly  round  and  threw  it  to  another  worker 
standing  farther  back.  At  the  same  time  he  cried  out 
sharply  in  a  low  singing  note.  The  other  caught  the 
bale  as  it  came  into  his  hands,  and  passed  it  on  in  like 
fashion  to  a  third  man  behind.  He  too  gave  a  cry  that 


The  Way  of  the  North  289 

was  musical  and  sweet,  but  that  differed  from  the 
first  in  being  some  notes  higher  in  the  scale.  The 
third  man  was  as  far  as  I  could  see,  but  by  the  cries 
that  came  with  perfect  regularity,  though  varying  up 
and  down  like  a  rude  round  or  chant,  there  was  no 
doubt  about  the  progress  of  the  bale  back  to  its  final 
resting-place  upon  the  pile. 

There  was  a  fascination  about  the  activity  and  tire- 
lessness  of  these  human  ants,  and  I  stood  with  the  boy 
just  inside  the  door,  holding  him  tightly  by  the  hand, 
and  watching  the  strange  scene  with  all  my  eyes. 
Paul  Alexandrovitch  danced  up  and  down  and  pulled 
determinedly  against  restraint. 

"Do  you  not  hear  them,  Fedor  Kirilovitch ? "  he 
cried  excitedly.  "Do  you  not  hear  them  sing?"  It 
was  in  my  mind  to  stoop  and  answer  him,  but  at  that 
moment  I  saw  his  father,  Alexander  Baranof,  standing 
in  the  crowd,  and  the  sight  of  him  for  the  moment  put 
the  child  completely  from  my  mind. 

Alexander  Andreievitch  had  his  place  between  the 
centre  and  the  right-hand  doors,  so  that  while  he  him 
self  was  in  shadow  he  had  a  view  of  all  that  was  going 
on  around.  His  hands  were  in  his  pockets,  and  he 
leaned  lightly  against  the  wall.  There  was  that  in  his 
manner  and  the  forward  poise  of  his  head  which  con 
firmed  me  in  the  belief  that  he  had  drunk  too  much  and 
was  not  thoroughly  himself. 

But  the  thing  which  seized  my  attention  and  held  me 
in  its  thrall  was  the  strange  and  sinister  expression  of 
his  face.  He  did  not  seem  to  see  us  or  the  men  that 
worked  about  him  on  each  side.  He  stood  there 
perfectly  absorbed,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  point 
where  the  central  ladders  had  been  set,  and  on  his 


290  The  Way  of  the  North 

countenance  there  was  a  look  of  hate  so  bitter  and 
malignant  that  in  the  dim  light  he  seemed  more  like 
an  evil  spirit  than  a  man. 

My  eyes  instinctively  went  out  in  question  along  the 
direction  of  his  glance,  and  following  came  to  rest  on 
the  figure  of  a  man  who  stood  at  the  ladder's  foot  and 
seemed  in  certain  measure  in  command.  He  was 
stripped  to  his  shirt  and  pantaloons  on  account  of  the 
stifling  heat,  and  his  head  turned  continuously  from 
side  to  side  in  watchful  observation  of  the  work  as  it 
went  on.  Nothing  escaped  the  supervision  of  his  eye, 
and  his  recognition  continually  found  expression  in 
words  of  approval  and  command.  At  the  same  time 
with  automatic  regularity  as  each  man  passed  him 
on  the  way,  he  set  over  from  one  hand  to  the  other  a 
small,  smooth  bit  of  stone,  and  thus  kept  certain  tally 
on  the  number  of  bales. 

His  dress  and  manner  were  so  different  that  he  was 
unfamiliar  at  first  sight,  but  in  a  moment,  in  spite  of 
his  dishevelled  look  and  the  streaks  of  dirt  upon  his 
neck  and  face,  I  recognised  him  as  the  Lieutenant 
Sookin  and  understood  why  the  commander  stood  and 
stared  at  him  with  such  dislike. 

It  was  a  strenuous  problem  that  I  had  to  face.  Alexei 
Yegorovitch  had  no  knowledge  that  Baranof  had  solved 
the  riddle  of  his  double  love,  and  so  was  unprepared 
against  attack.  On  the  other  hand,  I  had  seen  the 
commander  in  this  mood  before  and  knew  that  any 
sudden  spark  would  fan  a  blaze  that  in  its  swift  upleap 
would  scorch  them  both. 

My  first  thought  was  to  go  to  Alexei  Yegorovitch  and 
under  cover  of  our  greeting  put  him  on  his  guard. 
But  my  heart  told  me  that  Baranof  in  his  present 


The  Way  of  the  North  2gi 

suspicious  mind  would  take  no  time  in  seeing  through 
the  trick,  and,  comprehending,  might  be  moved  at  once 
to  all  I  would  avoid. 

Therefore  I  changed  my  plan  and  nerved  myself 
to  beard  the  lion  where  he  stood.  For  the  moment 
there  did  not  come  to  me  a  plausible  excuse  for  breaking 
in  upon  his  thought,  but  while  I  cast  about,  debating 
in  my  mind,  there  came  a  full  diversion  that  changed 
the  aspect  of  the  whole  affair  and  cleared  the  matter 
once  for  all. 

The  workers  on  the  central  stack  had  set  their 
layer  quite  across  the  top  and  now  were  busy  with  the 
rows  immediately  along  the  central  aisle.  They  were 
more  swift  than  those  on  either  side  and  worked  at  racing 
speed  to  finish  first.  Their  chant  had  quickened 
almost  to  a  tune  and  the  slower  men  among  them  were 
at  pains,  with  certainty,  to  take  and  pass  the  bales. 

Finally,  the  man  at  the  head  of  the  ladder  caught 
up  and  threw  his  bale  a  hair's-breadth  sooner  than  its 
proper  time.  The  second  man  was  taken  unawares.  He 
turned  from  throwing  his  own  bale  and  met  the  other 
without  chance  to  guard.  It  struck  him  fairly  in  the 
chest  and  bowled  him  over  like  an  alley  pin. 

At  other  points  it  would  have  done  no  harm;  but 
here  the  worker  was  so  near  the  edge  that,  falling  on 
his  back,  he  found  no  way  to  save  himself,  though  he 
scrambled  frantically  and  caught  at  each  side  with  his 
hands.  A  moment  he  hung  on  the  edge  and  then,  half 
rolling  round,  slipped  over  and  came  down. 

He  turned  in  the  air  with  his  arms  and  feet  bent 
under  like  a  cat,  and  half-way  down  fell  squarely  across 
the  brace  that  held  two  stanchions  at  this  point,  so 
that  I  thought  he  was  safe.  But  the  beam  was  only 


292  The  Way  of  the  North 

wedged  between  the  posts,  and  the  sudden  blow  dis 
lodged  it,  so  that  both  it  and  the  man  came  clattering 
down  together  to  the  floor.  The  interruption  served 
to  break  the  fellow's  fall,  and  when  he  struck  the  floor 
he  leapt  to  his  feet  and  ran  wildly  out  and  by  us  and  did 
not  stop  until  he  was  well  outside  the  door. 

The  men  at  work  had  met  the  case  before  and  knew 
the  danger  that  might  come.  The  instant  of  the  fall 
there  was  a  shrill  cry  of  warning  from  the  nearest  man, 
that  was  taken  up  and  carried  on  till  it  came  from  all 
about  the  place;  and  like  an  avalanche  the  men  upon 
the  stacks  came  running  with  a  rush  and  with  shouts 
and  curses  swarmed  down  the  ladders  like  a  living 
flood. 

As  I  looked  I  saw  the  reason  for  their  haste.  The 
prop  removed,  the  walls  of  the  aisle  behind  it  began  to 
stir  and  bulge,  and  the  posts  on  either  side  like  closing 
fingers  moved  slowly  together  at  the  top.  Baranof 
saw  it  too  and  planned  an  instant  move. 

"Steady!"  he  called,  his  big  voice  sounding  high 
above  the  noise.  "Get  in  there  quickly,  and  put 
back  that  prop!"  The  men  were  too  demoralised 
by  their  sudden  fright  to  respond  at  once,  and  with  a 
rush  he  went  forward  and  smote  Alexei  Yegorovitch 
on  the  back. 

"Are  you  a  coward?"  he  cried,  "that  you  are  afraid 
to  do  your  duty  and  go  in  ?"  It  was  so  suicidal  a  thing 
to  ask  a  man  to  do  that  Alexei  Yegorovitch  turned  on 
him  in  blank  astonishment.  But  in  the  act  he  paused 
and  swung  quickly  back  to  look  intently  down  the  aisle. 
He  saw  there  something  that  we  did  not  see,  for  with  a 
nod  of  his  head  to  Baranof  and  one  of  his  rare  smiles, 
he  said: 


The  Way  of  the  North  293 

"All  right,  I  will  go,"  and  with  a  leap  passed  in 
between  the  quickly  narrowing  walls.  Involuntarily  I 
put  out  my  hand  to  hold  him  back,  and  even  Baranof 
made  as  if  he  would  have  stopped  him  if  he  could. 

To  my  surprise,  Alexei  Yegorovitch  when  he  reached 
it  made  no  effort  to  take  up  the  prop,  but  stepping 
nimbly  over  it  passed  on  beyond  it  at  full  speed  along 
the  aisle.  No  other  followed  him  and  we  stood, 
breathless,  watching  the  narrowing  space.  There  was 
no  burst  of  sound  or  sudden  shock;  but  after  a  time 
that  seemed  interminable,  there  was  a  puff  of  dust  and 
the  two  walls  settled  down  together  with  a  sudden  little 
rush. 

So  gentle  was  it  that  for  the  moment  its  grim  signifi 
cance  all  but  passed  us  by.  I  myself  felt  no  more  than 
that  Alexei  Yegorovitch  had  passed  through  to  some 
where  before  the  closing  of  a  door.  Baranof  was  the 
first  to  see  the  truth. 

"Come  back,"  he  called  to  the  frightened  crowd. 
"There  is  no  danger  now.  Back  to  your  places  there 
on  either  side  and  throw  these  bales  out  till  the  aisle  is 
clear."  The  men  obeyed  him  readily  without  a  word; 
and  he  and  I  and  such  as  could  be  used  made  frantic 
haste  to  move  the  bales  in  front  passing  them  back  to 
those  who  carried  them  to  the  open  air. 

What  brought  the  thought  back  I  shall  never  know. 
But  while  I  worked  thus  madly  with  the  rest,  the  sudden 
memory  seized  me  that  I  had  forgotten  my  charge. 
With  a  wild  fear  I  stood  upright  and  gripped  Baranof 
by  the  arm. 

"The  child!"  I  cried.  "What  has  become  of  the 
child?" 

"What  child?"  he  roared.    "Stand  back  and  get 


294  The  Way  of  the  North 

to  work."  I  did  not  dare  to  tell  him,  and  at  once  let 
go  his  arm.  He  paid  no  further  heed,  and  I  stood  free 
to  seek  the  blind  boy  where  and  how  I  would.  I  ran 
up  and  down  the  passage,  searching  every  nook,  and 
scoured  the  field  without  at  sides  and  front,  but  found 
no  trace  of  him.  Somehow  there  continually  came 
back  to  me  with  haunting  force  that  last  strange  look 
of  Alexei  Yegorovitch  and  the  unexplained  mystery  of 
his  flight  along  the  aisle.  But  thinking  did  not  help 
it  and  at  length  in  sheer  despair  I  came  back  to  the 
work  of  clearing  out  the  bales,  trying  to  nurse  the  hope 
that  the  boy  had  gone  away  and  yet  with  the  sinking 
feeling  always  at  my  heart  that  in  the  m&le'e  he  had  come 
to  harm. 

It  was  two  hours  before  we  cleared  the  passage  back 
to  where  the  braces  held,  and  just  before  the  end  we 
came  upon  the  lieutenant,  and,  under  him,  as  I  had 
feared,  the  boy.  In  the  excitement  of  seeing  his 
father  in  the  place,  I  had  forgotten  him  and  let  go  his 
hand.  He  had  used  his  freedom  to  his  own  great  hurt, 
and  wandering  into  the  centre  aisle  had  passed  beyond 
the  break  before  the  falling  of  the  man. 

The  lieutenant  saw  him  when  the  crisis  came,  and 
found  in  his  need  the  stimulus  to  act  which  Baranof's 
taunt  had  failed  to  wake  in  him.  It  was  plain  his  plan 
had  been  to  snatch  the  child  and  carry  him  to  safety 
out  at  the  other  end.  But  there  had  been  no  time,  and 
at  the  last  he  had  laid  the  child  close  down  against  the 
wall  and  bridged  himself  above  him  to  save  him  from 
the  pressure  of  the  falling  bales. 

The  blind  boy  was  senseless  but  not  dead,  and 
Alexander  Andreievitch  with  infinite  tenderness  and 
care  lifted  him  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  hurriedly 


The  Way  of  the  North  29$ 

outside  to  the  light.  We  turned  the  lieutenant  over 
on  his  back.  I  felt  his  pulse  and  put  my  head  against 
his  breast;  but  there  was  no  response  of  consciousness 
and  his  heart  had  ceased  to  beat.  His  arms  and  legs 
were  broken  with  the  strain  and  from  the  corners  of  his 
lips  had  run  a  scarlet  stream.  Had  he  been  a  man  of 
stronger  build  he  might  have  still  pulled  through. 
There  was  but  a  light  weight  of  bales  above  him  and  he 
was  almost  into  safety  when  he  fell.  But  he  was  not 
made  for  things  like  this,  and  the  exertion  alone  was 
enough  to  start  the  bleeding  from  his  lungs. 

But  it  was  a  splendid  death,  and  the  men  who  lifted 
him  uncovered  reverently  before  they  took  him  out.  I 
went  before  them  to  the  door  and  came  on  Alexander 
Baranof  coming  back. 

"Can  you  not  come  to  the  boy?"  he  asked  me  anx 
iously.  Then  with  a  realising  look  at  the  slower  troupe 
behind,  he  said  softly,  "And  is  he  dead?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered  with  some  bitterness.  "I  trust 
you  are  satisfied  with  your  revenge."  He  threw  up  his 
hand  in  eager  deprecation. 

"No!  no!  He  was  a  brave  man,"  he  said  soberly, 
"I  did  not  like  him,  I  admit.  But  when  I  gave  that 
order,  it  was  solely  to  bring  him  to  his  duty  in  the  case, 
and  before  God  I  had  no  thought  to  send  him  to  his 
death." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

IT  is  a  strange  change  death  brings  to  a  face.  They 
say  it  is  a  man's  soul  that  looks  out  through  his  eyes, 
and  it  may  be  this  we  miss  when  it  is  gone.  I  had 
known  Alexei  Yegorovitch  so  that  in  the  dark  I  could 
call  up  his  face;  but  when  we  carried  out  the  body  to 
the  light,  the  look  of  him  was  such  he  might  have  been 
another  than  himself,  and  I  saw  him  with  a  real  sense 
of  shock. 

There  was  no  strange  distortion  nor  trace  of  mar  or 
bruise.  When  I  had  wiped  away  the  stain  of  blood 
about  the  lips  there  was  no  sign  to  show  how  he  had 
died.  But  the  play  of  thought,  the  lighting  of  the  eyes, 
the  rare  illuminating  smile  that  stirred  the  lips,  had  all 
vanished  with  his  life  and  the  blind  mask  that  looked 
at  me  was  unfamiliar  to  me  in  its  set  repose.  I  know  I 
shrank  from  it  and  was  glad  when  the  men  lifted  him 
and  carried  him  away. 

The  child  still  lay  unconscious  with  I  knew  not  what 
inward  hurt.  There  seemed  no  immediate  danger  of 
his  growing  worse,  and  after  arranging  for  his  removal 
and  his  care,  I  betook  myself  to  the  archimandrite's 
house  to  arrange  affairs  arid  make  needed  preparations 
for  the  later  watch  beside  his  bed. 

The  pope  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  door  and  drew 
me  with  much  mystery  inside.  As  soon  as  we  were 
alone  together,  he  came  close  to  me  and,  in  a  dismayed 
whisper,  unburdened  to  me  his  care. 

296 


The  Way  of  the  North  297 

"It  was  the  dog,"  he  said  significantly.  The  greater 
tragedy  had  driven  the  lesser  one  that  had  preceded  it 
entirely  from  my  mind  and  it  was  a  full  minute  before 
his  statement  touched  my  consciousness. 

"How  do  you  know?"  I  said  at  last. 

"There  was  blood  on  him,"  he  returned  solemnly, 
"and  his  chaps  were  red." 

"What  have  you  done  with  him — killed  him?" 

"Oh,  no,"  he  cried  in  genuine  distress,  "that  would 
not  help.  He  would  not  understand.  I  have  him 
shut  up  yonder  in  the  room."  I  shrugged  my  shoulders 
and  passed  on  through  to  my  own  place.  He  followed 
me  and  while  I  began  my  preparations,  sat  himself 
down  dejectedly  upon  the  bed.  He  was  so  stirred  by 
the  disgrace  which  had  been  brought  upon  him  by  the 
one  creature  for  whom  he  really  cared,  that  he  had  no 
eye  for  anything  beyond. 

"I  would  not  worry  about  the  matter,"  I  said  con 
solingly.  "  Even  if  you  have  to  give  him  up,  he  is  only 
a  dog." 

"I  cannot  forgive  him,"  he  returned  with  a  grieving 
simplicity  that  was  like  a  child's.  "It  is  his  ingratitude 
that  hurts.  I  had  trouble  enough  already  without  his 
adding  this." 

"  But,  man,  he  is  only  a  beast." 

"I  know  it,"  he  said  with  an  air  of  offended  dignity, 
"but  I  have  done  enough  for  him  that  he  ought  to  have 
stopped  and  thought."  The  assumption  was  so 
amusing  that  I  almost  laughed,  but  it  took  small 
observation  to  make  plain  that  the  matter  was  all 
serious  to  him.  The  dog  had  remained  a  friend  when 
all  the  rest  of  his  world  had  turned  away  and  there  had 
grown  up  in  the  man  a  joy  in  the  relation,  as  tender  as 


298  The  Way  of  the  North 

f  the  animal  had  been  human  and  not  beast.  So  I 
checked  the  smile  that  trembled  on  my  lips  and  listened 
sympathetically  while  he  went  babbling  on,  complaining 
of  his  protdge*  as  a  father  might  of  a  wayward  child. 
But  the  thing  was  too  insignificant  to  hold  me  against 
the  heavier  matters  that  were  on  my  mind  and  in  the  end 
I  grew  impatient  of  his  talk. 

"You  are  not  alone  in  being  troubled,"  I  said  at 
length.  "I  too  have  had  an  afternoon." 

"I  knew  you  would,"  he  answered  sympathetically, 
"for  you  were  certain  from  the  beginning  that  it  was 
surely  he." 

"Oh,  damn  your  dog,"  I  said,  my  patience  giving  out. 
"Mine  was  a  real  tragedy.  Alexei  Yegorovitch  was 
killed  to-day  by  the  falling  of  the  skins  and  I  saw  them 
take  him  out  from  under  the  pile  of  bales."  The 
pope  looked  quickly  up  at  me  with  shocked  and 
startled  face. 

"How  did  it  happen?"  he  demanded  breathlessly. 

"He  sacrificed  himself  to  save  the  blind  boy,  Paul." 

"Paul  ?"  he  repeated  after  me,  "and  was  he  saved  ?" 

"Yes,  unless  he  has  some  inner  hurt."  He  stood 
for  a  moment  turning  the  sudden  tidings  over  in  his 
mind. 

"Where  are  they?"  he  said  at  length. 

"Alexei  was  carried  to  the  barracks;  the  boy  they 
have  taken  home." 

"It  is  dreadful,"  he  ventured,  his  former  engrossing 
interest  entirely  merged  in  the  new  care.  "Let  us  go 
to  them.  Perhaps  we  can  be  of  use." 

"I  was  making  ready  for  it,"  I  returned.  "I  am  to 
watch  with  the  boy  to-night." 

When  I  was  ready,  we  sat  down  to  our  meal,  the  pope 


The  Way  of  the  North  299 

speaking  constrainedly  in  low  question  and  drawing 
out  from  me  the  details  of  Alexei's  death.  We  were 
for  the  most  part  silent  as  we  started  on  our  way,  and 
when  we  came  to  the  entrance  to  the  barracks  the  pope 
fell  back  and  let  me  lead  the  way. 

I  knew  the  place  so  well  I  did  not  think  to  make 
announcement  before  going  in.  The  great  room  was 
deserted  and  we  passed  through  it  without  stopping  to 
the  chamber  in  the  rear  that  had  been  Alexei  Yegoro- 
vitch's.  So  it  happened  on  opening  the  door  that  we 
surprised  Peter  Nicolaievitch  sitting  dejectedly  on  the 
side  of  the  bed  on  which  the  lieutenant  had  been  laid. 

He  got  to  his  feet  shamefacedly  and  turned  on  us 
with  a  manner  that  was  almost  fierce.  His  face 
softened  as  he  discovered  who  we  were,  and  he  came 
silently  forward  and  gave  to  each  of  us  a  hand.  His 
eyes  were  red  and  the  clasp  he  gave  me  was  so  strong 
it  hurt. 

"We  did  what  we  could  for  him,"  he  said  soberly, 
"but  it  was  too  late."  We  advanced  to  where  the 
body  lay  and  Peter  Nicolaievitch,  as  gently  and  tenderly 
as  if  he  feared  the  sleeper  might  awake,  drew  back  the 
cloth  that  covered  up  the  face.  I  set  my  teeth  involun 
tarily  as  he  did  so,  for,  at  the  motion,  the  dislike  I  had 
had  when  I  last  saw  the  lieutenant  came  back  again 
over  me  like  a  wave. 

But  I  might  have  spared  myself  the  fear,  for  with  the 
first  glance  at  him,  the  feeling  passed  absolutely  and 
for  all  time  away.  He  was  different  here  in  the  soft 
light  of  the  lamp  and  what  I  saw  had  nothing  about  it 
to  disturb  my  mind.  Peter  Nicolaievitch  had  propped 
the  body  up  with  pillows  and  the  draperies  were  dis 
posed  about  him  as  if  lie  were  asleep.  The  features  had 


300  The  Way  of  the  North 

come  back  to  something  of  their  old  intelligent  estate, 
and  as  I  looked  at  him  I  could  not  but  take  note 
how  wonderfully  like  he  looked  to  the  Alexei  of  the 
time  when  he  had  made  his  choice  between  the  pope 
and  me,  and  fainting,  furnished  me  my  earliest  patient 
at  the  post. 

The  loss  was  still  too  fresh  with  Peter  Nicolaievitch 
and  as  he  stood  holding  back  the  cloth,  though  his  face 
was  rigid  as  a  mask,  his  lips  quivered  piteously  in  his 
effort  at  self-control. 

"I  suppose  this  is  a  thing  that  comes  to  everyone," 
he  said  huskily,  "but  I  wish  to  God  it  could  have  been 
delayed  till  I  was  free  to  leave  this  Tophet  of  a  place." 
We  thought  of  no  fitting  answer,  and  he  bent  above  the 
body  with  a  tenderness  of  manner  I  had  never  seen  in 
him  before. 

"Poor  boy,"  he  said,  and  touched  him  gently  with 
his  hand.  Then  with  a  force  that  was  almost  rough 
ness  he  turned  and  spoke  to  me. 

"Marfa  Alexandrovna "  he  said,  "has  she  been 

told?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  I  answered.  "I  had  not  thought 
of  it." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"She  has  been  ill  all  day  and  has  not  left  her  room." 

"I  am  glad,"  he  said  simply.  "It  would  kill  her  to 
come  upon  it  unawares."  He  stood  for  a  moment 
absorbed  in  thought,  endeavouring  to  settle  the  matter 
satisfactorily  in  his  mind. 

"She  must  hear  of  it  as  she  should,"  he  said  at  last 
decisively,  and  the  pope  and  I,  listening,  both  answered, 
"Yes";  but  in  spite  of  this  full  agreement  of  our  minds 
we  were  not  at  peace.  I  looked  at  the  pope  and  at 


The  Way  of  the  North  301 

Peter  Nicolaievitch,  and  they  looked  at  each  other  and 
at  me.  We  were  all  equally  united  in  the  need  of 
bringing  properly  to  her  the  dreadful  news,  but  there 
was  no  one  of  us  but  felt  dismay  at  the  thought  of  being 
called  on  personally  to  carry  out  the  plan. 

"I  could  not  do  it,"  Peter  Nicolaievitch  said  between 
his  teeth.  The  disclaimer  was  purely  an  expression 
of  opinion  personal  to  him,  but  I  welcomed  and  adopted 
it  as  my  own  with  a  breathing  of  relief. 

"There  is  but  one  person,  really,  who  has  the  right," 
I  answered;  "Alexander  Andreievitch  must  do  it  if  it  is 
done  at  all." 

"He  may,  perhaps,  if  you  ask  him,"  said  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  doubtfully,  "but  he  will  not  want  to,  he 
so  dreads  a  woman's  tears." 

"I  have  talked  to  him  before  of  Marfa  Alexandrovna, 
and  he  is  quick  to  seize  on  anything  that  may  affect  her 
life  or  health." 

"It  is  worth  trying,"  said  Peter  Nicolaievitch, 
thoughtfully.  "She  is  like  him  in  ways  and  pride  and 
he  cares  more  for  her  than  for  anything  else  on  earth." 
We  walked  in  silence  to  the  door  and,  in  parting,  Peter 
Nicolaievitch  wrung  my  hand. 

"Do  not  delay,"  he  cautioned.  "I  should  never 
forgive  myself  if  through  our  lack  the  thing  should  go 
amiss." 

We  went  directly  to  the  injured  boy,  and,  as  I  had 
hoped,  we  found  the  commander  sitting  by  the  bed. 
The  child  had  awakened  from  his  enforced  trance  and 
was  conscious  of  what  passed  about  him  in  the  room. 
He  was  supremely  weak,  however,  and  had  no  wish  to 
stir;  but  his  progress  had  been  good,  and  I  doubted 
not  that  in  the  end  he  would  survive. 


302  The  Way  of  the  North 

Alexander  Andreievitch  held  him  gently  by  the  hand 
and  spoke  to  him  now  and  then  in  a  shadow  of  his  big, 
accustomed  voice,  The  only  sign  the  blind  boy  made 
was  a  slow  movement  of  the  head  from  side  to  side,  and, 
at  intervals,  a  whispered  calling  of  his  sister's  name. 
So  many  times  did  this  occur,  and  the  child's  desire  for 
her  seemed  so  great,  that  I  made  of  it  my  opportunity 
to  question  Baranof. 

"Marfa  Alexandrovna,"  I  said,  "why  is  it  she  does 
not  come?"  He  glanced  at  me  with  an  almost  guilty 
look. 

"I  have  not  sent  for  her,"  he  said  slowly.  "She  has 
not  been  told." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  I  asked.     "  It  surely  must  be  done." 

"I  know  it,"  he  cried  protestingly,  "but  how?" 

"It  falls  to  you,  Alexander  Andreievitch.  There  is 
no  one  else." 

"I  cannot,"  he  said  weakly,  "I  have  not  the  heart." 

"But  think  what  will  come  to  her  if  she  hears  it — as 
she  surely  will — from  some  other  mouth."  He  stood 
irresolutely,  with  his  head  bent  down  and  rubbed  his 
foot  from  side  to  side  upon  the  floor. 

"Were  it  some  one  else,  I  would  not  care,"  he  said 
slowly,  "but  with  my  own  flesh  and  blood ! 

"That  is  true,"  I  assented,  "but  to  do  it  will  be  the 
real  kindness  in  the  end." 

"Well,  I  will  try,"  he  said  at  last.  "To-morrow  if  I 
can " 

"No,"  I  interrupted,  "it  must  be  done  to-night." 
Quite  unexpectedly,  he  raised  his  head  and  turned 
suddenly  to  me. 

"Will  you  go  with  me  ?"  he  said  abruptly. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "if  you  think  I  can  be  of  use."    His 


The  Way  of  the  North  303 

eyes  looked  his  satisfaction  and  he  gave  a  long  sigh  of 
relief. 

"And  the  priest,  too,"  he  said.  "She  was  fond  of 
the  priest." 

"They  are  good  at  consolation,"  I  answered,  "and 
I  think  if  you  ask  him,  he  will  come." 

Baranof,  having  made  up  his  mind,  could  have  no 
rest  until  he  had  the  matter  done.  He  called  a  woman 
to  attend  the  boy,  and,  motioning  with  his  head  for  us 
to  follow,  led  the  way  out  of  the  room  into  the  hall  and 
so  passed  through  to  the  women's  side  of  the  house. 
At  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  he  stopped  and 
knocked. 

"Marfa,"  he  called,,  "it  is  I.  May  I  come  in?" 
There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  I  heard  from  within 
the  girl's  voice  say: 

"Yes,  if  you  wish  it,  come."  Baranof  hesitated  a 
moment  with  his  fingers  at  his  lips.  Then  with  a  swift 
glance  at  us  to  brace  his  courage,  he  lifted  the  latch 
softly  and  we  all  passed  into  the  room. 

Marfa  Alexandrovna  was  dressed,  except  that  she 
had  let  down  her  hair,  and  she  lay  upon  a  couch  near 
the  centre  of  the  place.  She  was  not  expecting  any 
except  her  father  to  come  in,  and  our  intrusion  came  to 
her  with  a  sense  of  shock.  She  slid  her  feet  off  quickly 
from  the  bed  and  sat  upright  upon  its  edge. 

"You  should  have  warned  me,"  she  said  to  her 
father,  with  annoyance  in  her  voice.  "I  thought  you 
were  alone."  Baranof  was  too  full  of  his  tidings  to 
pass  the  matter  off,  but  he  made  such  effort  as  he  could. 

"It  is  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  he  said  apologetically. 
"He  has  just  returned  from  his  journey  to  the  North 
and  I  was  anxious  to  have  him  see  you  without  delay," 


304  The  Way  of  the  North 

She  turned  her  solemn  eyes  on  me  in  keen  interrogation, 
but  she  had  found  something  unusual  in  her  father's 
look  or  speech,  and,  without  greeting  even,  her  eyes 
left  mine  and  went  back  in  uneasy  questioning  to  his. 

"Is  that  the  only  reason?"  she  asked  searchingly. 

"Only  your  health,"  he  said,  dropping  down  his 
head  so  as  to  avoid  her  eyes.  She  kept  her  gaze  upon 
him  mercilessly. 

"But  the  priest,  then,"  she  said,  "why  did  you  bring 
the  priest?"  He  had  no  answer  ready  and  her  agita 
tion  grew,  for  in  his  guilty  look  there  was  that  by  which 
her  suspicions  were  confirmed. 

"Why  do  you  not  tell  me,  father?"  she  continued 
with  such  calmness  as  she  could  command.  At  the 
same  time,  I  could  see  her  body  tremble  and  her  eyes 
grow  luminous  with  the  fear  of  what  he  might  disclose ; 
and  as  she  spoke,  she  gripped  the  edge  of  the  bed  beside 
her  with  her  hand.  Baranof's  face  grew  flushed  with 
the  strain  of  what  he  had  to  tell. 

"Marfa,"  he  said  wistfully,  "I  have  been  a  good 
father  to  you,  have  I  not  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said  tentatively,  devouring  him  with  her 
eyes. 

"And  you  believe  that  if  I  have  come  between  you 
and  anything  in  this  life  that  you  have  cared  to  have, 
it  has  been  only  because  I  thought  it  needful  for  your 
welfare  that  I  should  ? "  She  did  not  speak  in  answer 
nor  take  away  her  eyes,  but  her  lips  formulated  dumbly 
the  motion  of  assent. 

Already  in  the  absorption  of  their  emotion  both  she 
and  her  father  had  forgot  that  we  were  there,  and  they 
went  on  with  their  dialogue  as  if  they  were  alone.  The 
girl's  Indian  blood  stood  her  in  good  stead  in  helping 


The  Way  of  the  North  305 

to  preserve  her  calm,  though  her  rigid  pose  and  intense 
concentration  betrayed  how  strongly  she  was  under 
strain.  Baranof  was  excited,  too,  and  ill  at  ease  and 
spoke  with  an  humbleness  and  gentleness  that  were  a 
gauge  of  how  tenderly  he  held  her  in  his  heart. 

"If  I  should  come  to  you  to-night,"  he  blundered  on, 
"and  say  to  you  that  there  was  a  great  sorrow  for  you 
in  what  I  had  to  tell — if  I  should  bring  you  word  that 
what  you  have  been  hoping  for  your  future  and  holding 
dearest  in  your  heart  had  surely  failed  and  come  to 
wreck  because  both  the  man  and  the  chance  have  gone 
forever — would  you  have  courage,  dear — 

But  she  could  bear  the  strain  no  longer  and  broke  in 
upon  his  word. 

"Father,"  she  said  in  bitter  accusation,  getting  to 
her  feet  and  leaning  breathlessly  out  to  him  in  her  fear, 
"what  have  you  done  to  Alexei  Yegorovitch?  Where 
has  he  gone?" 

"God  alone  knows,"  he  said  solemnly,  "but  I  trust 
he  is  at  peace."  Marfa  Alexandrovna  quailed  visibly 
and  drew  in  her  breath  in  a  sob  of  horror  and  distress. 

"Is  he  dead?"  she  whispered. 

"Yes,"  said  Alexander  Andreievitch,  softly,  "he  was 
killed  this  afternoon  at  the  warehouse  by  the  falling 
of  the  skins." 

She  did  not  speak  again,  nor  find  in  tears  the  merci 
ful  outlet  for  her  grief.  It  was  as  if  the  blow  had  taken 
from  her  instantly  and  for  all  time  the  power  of  motion 
and  of  speech.  Only  as  the  moments  passed  her  eyes 
grew  almost  fierce  in  their  dry  brightness  and  her  hag 
gard  face  more  drawn ;  and  as  the  weakness  that  such 
excitement  brings  took  hold  upon  her,  she  suddenly 
sat  down. 


306  The  Way  of  the  North 

Baranof  put  out  his  hand  awkwardly,  as  if  to  help 
her  and  then  drew  it  back.  It  was  plain  that  however 
close  the  understanding  was  between  the  two,  it  did  not 
go  to  the  intimate  exchange  of  sympathy  and  love. 

We  all  three  stood  in  silence,  hoping  each  moment 
that  the  first  pang  of  her  loss  would  pass.  But  there 
was  no  respite  for  her  troubled  heart,  and  almost  before 
we  realised  it,  the  agony  of  her  bereavement  and  the 
growing  weight  of  her  despair  wrought  their  full  mischief 
in  her  tortured  brain  and  she  slipped  out  and  away  from 
us,  across  the  boundary  of  sanity  and  hope. 

She  did  not  move  or  speak,  but  in  her  face  there 
grew  a  subtle  and  unpleasant  change,  and  her  eyes 
began  to  burn  with  an  intensity  that  was  like  a  con 
suming  fire.  Her  fingers  which  until  now  had  been 
quiet  as  she  sat,  moved  nervously  out  and  in  and  she 
picked  restlessly  at  her  sleeves  and  dress.  Then  with 
out  warning  her  hands  went  swiftly  to  her  throat  and 
rocking  back  and  forward  in  her  place,  she  began  sud 
denly  to  laugh. 

It  was  not  the  laughter  that  is  near  to  tears  nor  the 
mirthless  voicing  that  hysteria  prompts.  From  its  low 
beginning  to  its  high-pitched  gibbering  close  it  was 
sentient  with  the  horror  that  only  madness  brings.  As 
it  began  and  swelled  to  the  full  measure  of  its  sound, 
my  flesh  crept  with  a  shivering  chill  and  I  heard  the 
pope  behind  me  say,  "Dear  God!" 

I  turned  to  look  at  him,  but  at  once  looked  back,  for, 
in  the  instant,  Baranof,  stirred  as  we  were,  made  a 
movement  toward  the  excited  girl,  and,  with  a  scream 
that  drove  the  colour  from  our  cheeks,  she  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  crouching  like  something  wild,  launched 
herself  directly  at  his  throat. 


the  Way  of  the  North  307 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  regardless  of  her  cries  and 
made  strong  fight  to  seize  her  by  the  hands.  I  was  by 
him  almost  in  the  thought,  and  between  us  we  pinioned 
the  arms  of  the  unfortunate  creature  to  her  sides  and 
forced  her  back  again  upon  the  bed.  She  writhed  and 
moaned  and  beat  out  with  her  hands,  but  her  father 
kept  his  place  beside  her  and  with  his  arm  around  her 
strove  to  quiet  her  with  soothing  speech.  He  was 
breathless  with  the  violence  of  his  exertions  and  as  he 
talked  to  her,  the  tears  ran  steadily  down  his  face. 

"Take  heart,"  I  said.  "It  is  not  likely  this  violence 
will  last."  He  turned  his  face  to  me  with  a  despairing 
motion  of  his  head. 

"It  is  a  judgment,"  he  said  huskily.  "My  punish 
ment  is  great."  I  knew  that  for  the  moment  he  was 
not  thinking  of  her,  but  of  his  hatred  of  Alexei  Yegoro- 
vitch  and  the  indirect  part  he  had  played  in  compassing 
his  death,  and  I  found  no  word  of  comfort  for  him  in 
my  heart.  The  pope  was  already  kneeling  at  the  end 
of  the  couch,  his  calm  face  lifted  up  in  prayer.  I  took 
my  station  on  the  other  side,  and  with  my  fingers  on 
Marfa  Alexandra  vna's  pulse,  resigned  myself  as  did  the 
other  two,  to  watch  the  resolving  of  her  state. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IT  is  now  three  months  since  Alexei  Yegorovitch 
died,  and  in  that  time  the  most  of  those  who  suffered 
in  his  tragedy  have  found  their  healing  and  come  again 
to  peace.  For  one  thing,  the  summer  is  over  and  the 
nights  have  darkness  of  a  Christian  length.  The 
autumn  winds  have  blown  away  the  vapours  of  con 
tagion  that  kept  the  people  sick;  and  even  the  settlers, 
purged  of  their  first  homesickness,  have  taken  on  more 
cheerful  airs  and  come  to  look  resignedly  on  life. 

Baranof  himself  has  much  to  make  him  glad.  Lebe- 
def's  settlement  on  the  river  has  met  with  final  and 
deserved  ruin;  and  there  has  never  been  another  year 
that  brought  the  Company  so  many  skins.  And, 
besides  success  to  gratify  his  pride,  far  more  than  he 
had  hoped,  the  commander  has  found  salvage  from 
the  wreckage  of  the  things  that  were  near  his  heart. 

The  blind  boy,  Paul,  in  his  mishap,  met  with  no  vital 
hurt,  and  to-day  is  all  that  he  was  before.  Marfa 
Alexandrovna  still  sits  in  darkness  and  is  outside  of 
life,  but  the  acute  rigour  of  her  malady  has  been  long 
since  stayed,  and  in  her  eyes  at  times  there  comes  the 
flicker  of  intelligence  that  is  the  first  lighting  of  return 
ing  dawn. 

It  was  a  somber  promise  of  new  happiness  that  pre 
sented  itself  to  Alexander  Andreievitch  when  he  began 
to  take  up  life  again  in  his  great  empty  house.  With 
Marfa  gone,  and  Marya  Andreievna  dead  of  the  plague, 

308 


The  Way  of  the  North  309 

he  looked  with  melancholy  and  dismay  on  its  conduct 
and  its  care.  But,  with  kindly  spirit,  Anna  Gregorovna 
threw  herself  into  the  breach  and  made  his  comfort  and 
his  happiness  her  earnest  thought ;  and  so  complete  has 
been  her  ministration  that  he  has  come  to  lean  on  her 
as  before  he  did  on  those  of  his  own  blood,  and  to  lavish 
on  her  much  of  the  love  that  Marfa  earlier  claimed. 

The  one,  perhaps,  who  looks  least  happily  on  life  is 
Joassaf  Petrovitch,  the  pope.  He  has  settled  himself  in 
the  archimandrite's  house  and,  without  assumption  of 
that  functionary's  dignities,  has  drawn  around  him 
all  his  cares  and  work.  The  militant  instinct  that 
drew  him  afield  to  battle  for  the  Lord  has  sunk  to 
a  mere  smoulder,  and  for  the  most  part  scarcely 
glows  at  all. 

In  truth,  I  think  he  looks  upon  the  natives  with  a 
reservation  that  is  near  distrust.  The  Kolosh  men  he 
tolerates  and  meets  half-way,  but  the  women  he  can 
not  yet  abide.  The  Russians  of  his  charge  have,  with 
out  exception,  come  to  love  him,  and,  above  all,  to 
respect.  It  would  seem  that,  of  all  of  us,  he  has  the 
smallest  quarrel  with  his  fate,  and  should  have  passed 
us  in  the  reach  of  his  content. 

But  it  is  not  what  is  had,  but  what  is  lacking,  that  is 
the  final  measure  of  the  cup,  and,  though  in  all  things 
else  he  seemed  to  have  his  wish,  the  whole  horizon  has 
been  darkened  for  him  by  the  losing  of  his  dog.  The 
affair  of  the  calf  proved  more  serious  than  I  had  at  first 
surmised.  The  little  animal  was  the  first  of  its  kind 
the  colony  had  seen  and  its  untimely  fate  called  forth  a 
strict  inquiry  for  its  self-appointed  executioner.  Each 
man  about  the  post  who  owned  a  dog  was  plied  with 
swift  and  rigid  inquiry,  and  when  account  could  not 


310  The  Way  of  the  North 

be  made,  or  where  the  path  of  the  animal  had  turned 
a  hairsbreadth  to  the  side,  the  man  was  punished  and 
the  dog  \vent  to  its  death. 

At  first  no  word  of  this  came  either  to  the  pope  or  me. 
His  dog,  Joassaf  Petrovitch  had  kept  hidden  in  an  inner 
room,  and  those  in  search  forgot  he  was  the  owner  of 
the  beast.  The  whole  pursuit  would  have  passed  us 
without  once  calling  on  the  scent  if  it  had  not  chanced 
that  on  a  Wednesday,  when  it  was  raining  hard,  as  we 
were  out  and  coming  back  across  the  town,  we  came 
upon  a  man  set  in  the  stocks,  who  took  his  punishment 
in  most  unhappy  wise. 

The  little  roof  above  his  head,  which  should  have 
made  a  shelter  for  him  from  the  rain,  had  gone  askew 
by  the  help  of  some  one's  hand,  and  the  drip  of  it,  just 
missing  his  face  as  he  leaned  back,  poured  down  in  a 
steady  stream  upon  his  stomach  and  his  legs.  He  was 
a  slender  fellow,  and  sickly  at  the  best,  and  as  he  sat 
there  wet  and  draggled  in  his  forced  inactivity,  his  face 
was  blue  and  pinched  and  he  shivered  in  the  keen  sea 
air  as  if  in  his  desire  to  be  free  he  would  shake  out  his 
very  life. 

He  was  so  dismal  in  his  sodden  misery,  that  involun 
tarily  I  stopped  to  look  at  him.  It  was  the  physician's 
instinct  rather  than  an  impulse  of  the  heart  that  made 
me  search  in  my  pocket  for  a  flask.  The  fellow 
watched  me  eagerly  as  I  drew  out  the  cork  and  he  held 
up  his  mouth  like  a  fledgeling  bird  for  me  to  pour  the 
liquor  in. 

He  gasped  a  little  as  it  burned  its  way,  but,  when  it 
was  down,  he  settled  back  with  a  great  sigh  of  com 
fort  and  relief  and  looked  the  thanks  he  had  not  power 
to  speak.  The  pope  pulled  up  his  roof  till  it  stood 


The  Way  of  the  North  31 1 

square  again  on  its  supports,  and  the  water  once  more 
drained  away  from  him  beyond  his  feet. 

"What  have  you  done,  man?"  I  said  in  sympathetic 
question.  "Your  lapse  must  have  been  great  that  it 
required  setting  out  in  a  rain  like  this  to  soften  your 
heart."  He  made  a  grateful  attempt  to  smile  in 
answer,  but  the  result  was  too  watery  for  a  full  success. 

"It  was  my  love  for  animals,"  he  said  when  he  could 
hold  himself  so  he  could  speak.  "They  tried  to  take 
my  dog  to  kill  him  and  I  struck  the  officer,  and  so  they 
set  me  here.  They  got  the  dog,"  he  added  gloomily. 

"But* what  had  the  beast  done  that  they  should  take 
him  ?  "  I  asked  in  some  surprise. 

"They  said  that  he  had  killed  the  calf.  It  was  the 
general  order.  I  could  not  prove  he  had  not,  so  they 
took  him  like  the  rest."  I  turned  quickly  to  the  pope 
and  found  him  looking  at  the  man  with  an  agitation 
he  could  not  conceal. 

"You  say  you  are  here  because  they  thought  your 
dog  had  killed  the  calf  ? "  he  demanded  hurriedly. 

"Yes,"  assented  the  man.  "There  was  no  other 
fault." 

"It  is  a  mistake,"  said  Joassaf  Petrovitch,  eagerly. 
"I  did  not  know  there  was  a  search.  I  will  go  to 
Alexander  Andreievitch  at  once."  The  prisoner  did 
not  understand  the  reason  for  his  agitation  but  he 
gathered  clearly  that  we  were  about  to  intercede  with 
Baranof  in  his  behalf.  He  mustered  courage  to  ask 
for  further  drink  and  I  poured  the  brandy  into  him  in 
a  long,  gurgling  stream.  Thus  fortified,  he  watched 
our  going  with  growing  interest  and  peace,  and  sent 
after  us  an  avalanche  of  fervent  prayers  for  our  success. 

Baranof,  as  was  usual  with  him  at  the  hour,  was  busy 


312  The  Way  of  the  North 

at  his  desk,  but  the  rain  or  lack  of  business  for  the  day 
had  worked  successfully  to  clear  the  place,  and,  the 
audience  room  being  empty,  we  were  not  obliged  to 
wait.  The  pope  did  not  stop  for  recognition,  but  began 
to  speak  at  once. 

"Alexander  Andreievitch,"  he  began  excitedly,  "I 
have  done  a  wrong  and  I  have  come  to  you  to  set  the 
matter  right."  Baranof  laid  down  his  pen  and  looked 
up  at  him  with  a  smile.  In  the  intimate  association 
of  the  days  just  passed  he  had  come  to  understand  the 
old  man  and  to  look  with  more  indulgence  on  his 
impulses  and  whims.  He  did  not  speak  at  once,  but, 
stretching  his  ringers  like  one  who  has  just  discovered 
it  is  cold,  got  up  and  walked  as  if  for  exercise,  around 
the  desk. 

"I  am  glad  to  find  that  you  recognise  that  there  is 
authority  in  me,"  he  said  good-humouredly.  "Some 
times  I  think  you  priests  believe  there  is  no  power  above 
you  except  God."  Joassaf  Petrovitch  was  too  much 
troubled  to  take  notice,  even,  of  the  lightness  of  the 
speech. 

"There  is  a  man  out  yonder  in  the  rain,"  he  said 
earnestly.  "His  punishment  is  wrong,  and  I  come  to 
you  to  have  you  let  him  go  and  put  me  in  his  place." 
Baranof  did  not  even  question  this  astonishing  demand, 
putting  it  down  to  some  delusion  of  the  priest.  He 
thought  gravely  for  a  moment  and  then  said: 

"If  we  were  in  China  now,  I  have  no  doubt  the  sub 
stitution  would  be  an  eminently  proper  thing.  But  here, 
the  man  who  does  the  crime  must  take  the  punishment." 

"That  is  it,"  cried  the  pope  hastily.  "It  was  my 
crime,  not  his!"  Baranof  looked  at  him  searchingly 
from  under  his  heavy  brows. 


The  Way  of  the  North  313 

"  What  was  the  crime  ?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"The  killing  of  the  calf.  It  was  my  dog,  not  his, 
that  did  it."  Baranof  plainly  looked  relieved. 

"Oh!  That!"  he  said  with  some  contempt.  "I 
thought  it  must  be  murder  at  the  least." 

"But  the  man  in  the  stocks,"  went  on  the  pope 
aggrievedly. 

"We  will  have  him  out,"  said  Baranof,  and  turned 
and  rang  his  bell.  The  order  was  soon  given,  and  the 
commander  turned  again  to  us. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  it  was  your  dog?" 
he  said  reprovingly. 

"The  thing  happened  on  the  day  Alexei  Yegorovitch 
was  killed  and  the  weightier  matters  drove  it  from  my 
mind.  We  did  not  know  there  was  an  inquiry  until 
to-day."  Baranof's  eyes  twinkled  and  he  held  his  lips 
together  to  avoid  a  grin. 

"I  am  not  so  sorry  as  I  might  be,"  he  said  slowly. 
"The  delay  has  served  to  wipe  out  almost  every  worth 
less  cur  about  the  post.  I  have  not  had  such  a  clear 
ance  in  two  years." 

"But  the  punishment  for  me?"  suggested  the  pope 
meekly.  "I  was  more  guilty  even  than  the  rest." 
Baranof  nodded  vigorously  his  understanding  of  the 
case  and  then  laughed  aloud. 

"You  are  the  first  culprit  that  ever  came  to  me  to 
ask  for  his  own  punishment,"  he  answered,  "and 
that  alone  entitles  you  to  mercy  at  my  hands.  Kill 
the  dog  and  we  will  let  it  go  at  that."  The  pope's 
hands  came  convulsively  together  and  he  fairly 
gasped. 

"I  would  like  to  keep  him,"  he  said  tremulously. 
"If  I  should  take  the  punishment,  could  it  be  arranged 


314  The  Way  of  the  North 

that  way?"  Baranofs  face  grew  grave  and  he  medi 
tatively  pursed  up  his  lips. 

"Are  you  so  fond  of  him  as  that?"  he  asked.  "I 
remember  now,  you  brought  him  from  the  North." 
He  considered  the  matter  in  silence,  while  the  pope 
waited  breathlessly  what  he  would  decide. 

"I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be  done,"  he  said  at  last. 
"Once  a  killer,  a  dog  is  always  one,  and  at  the  best  it 
would  be  only  a  little  time  till  you  would  have  to  give 
him  up."  The  tears  stood  in  the  pope's  eyes,  but  it 
was  not  his  way  to  stand  against  authority  and  he 
accepted  the  decision  without  the  protest  of  a  word. 

"When  will  they  come  for  him  ?"  he  asked  faintly. 

"Oh,  this  afternoon,  I  suppose,"  said  Baranof.  "I 
am  sorry  for  you,  man,"  he  added  sympathetically.  "I 
would  allow  it  if  I  could.  Let  the  beast  go  and  if  you 
like  you  shall  have  any  other  decent  animal  about  the 
post." 

The  pope  shook  his  head,  but  would  not  trust  him 
self  to  speak,  and  we  went  out  again,  leaving  Baranof 
with  sufficient  interest  in  the  affair  to  keep  him  gazing 
ruefully  after  us  till  we  reached  the  door,  before  return 
ing  to  his  work.  Joassaf  Petrovitch  kept  a  pace  ahead 
of  me  upon  the  road  and,  when  we  reached  the  house, 
closeted  himself  at  once  in  the  room  where  the  dog  was 
hid.  He  would  not  come  out  to  eat  and  I  made  no 
effort  to  disturb  him  till  the  men  came  to  take  away  the 
beast.  Then  I  went  to  the  door  and  called  to  him 
inside. 

"Joassaf,"  I  said,  "the  men  are  here."  There  was 
no  answer  and  I  tried  the  door.  It  was  fastened  on  the 
inside  and  I  had  no  recourse  but  to  call  again. 

"Joassaf,"  I  repeated,  "you  must  bring  out  the  dog." 


The  Way  of  the  North  315 

"I  hear,"  came  out  the  stifled  answer.  "In  a 
moment  I  will  come."  I  stopped  my  knocking  and 
went  back  to  the  men,  who  had  remained  outside.  It 
was  full  five  minutes  before  he  ventured  out;  but  at  last 
he  came,  with  the  dog  hugged  tightly  to  his  breast  and 
on  his  face  the  look  of  renunciation  Abraham  must 
have  had  when  for  sacrifice  he  first  laid  hands  upon 
his  child. 

The  time  of  waiting  had  evidently  been  given  to  the 
last  farewells,  for,  without  a  change  of  feature  or  a 
word,  the  pope  went  to  the  nearest  man  and  put  the 
creature  in  his  arms.  The  dog,  with  his  eye  obediently 
on  his  master,  made  no  struggle  and  remained  quietly 
in  the  fellow's  grasp. 

The  men  moved  off  and  the  pope  turned  aside  and 
stood  with  his  head  bent  and  fingers  on  his  lips  to  wait 
till  they  were  wholly  out  of  sight.  But  the  dog,  re 
leased  from  the  binding  magic  of  the  pope's  control, 
registered  a  strong  disclaimer  to  the  manner  of  his  car 
rying  off  and  promptly  bit  his  captor  on  the  arm.  The 
man  dropped  him,  and  the  animal,  once  upon  his  feet, 
took  to  his  heels  and  fled  swiftly  toward  the  house. 

But  it  was  not  to  accomplish  its  escape,  for  the  other 
man,  raising  his  gun,  took  hurried  aim  and  fired,  and 
the  dog,  struck  in  a  vital  part,  stumbled  and  went 
down  almost  at  Joassaf  Petrovitch's  feet.  He  was 
upon  it  almost  as  it  fell  and  with  hysteric  abandon 
petted  it  and  talked  to  it  as  if  it  still  could  understand. 
I  motioned  to  the  men  to  go  away,  and,  after  a  moment, 
the  pope  gathered  up  the  dead  body  in  his  arms  and 
without  a  thought  for  me  or  the  blood  that  smeared  his 
clothes,  carried  it  inside  and  out  of  sight  into  his  own 
room. 


316  The  Way  of  the  North 

Some  time  between  that  and  the  next  night  he  gave  It 
burial  in  the  yard  behind  the  house,  but  he  chose  a 
time  for  doing  it  when  he  was  all  alone.  Either  his 
grief  was  too  sacred  to  admit  of  being  shared,  or  the 
bitterness  within  him  prompted  him  to  hold  the  memory 
entirely  to  himself,  for  with  this  last  expression  of  his 
love  he  brought  the  matter  to  an  end.  From  that  time 
there  was  no  mention  of  it  between  us,  either  by  act  or 
word.  I  did  not  question  him  and  he  vouchsafed  to 
me  no  exposition  of  his  thought. 

But  the  sting  of  his  grievance  stayed  with  him  and 
rankled  in  his  heart.  He  grew  visibly  older  and  more 
stooped  and  was  infirm  in  his  temper  at  unexpected 
times.  So  strongly  did  this  spirit  grow  upon  him  that 
in  the  end  I  found  it  hard  to  meet  him  with  the  old 
frankness  in  our  daily  life  and,  as  a  result,  the  lack 
and  its  accompanying  need  to  round  out  elsewhere  my 
uneven  store  of  peace,  did  much  to  take  me  away  from 
him  and  his  affairs  and  turn  me  to  the  thought  of 
Anna  Gregorovna  and  what  I  might  expect  of  future 
happiness  at  her  hands. 

Not  that  she  was  not  already  in  my  mind.  There 
was  no  minute  passed  that  did  not  find  her  as  an  under 
current  in  my  thought.  But  I  had  wisely  settled  with 
myself  that  it  was  best  to  withhold  advances  till  the 
shock  of  Alexei  Yegorovitch's  death  had  worn  away, 
and  so  I  had  been  little  in  her  company. 

From  the  date  of  my  home  coming  to  the  time 
the  accident  occurred  I  had  had  no  speech  with 
her  at  all.  The  lieutenant's  unhappy  end  wiped 
out  for  the  moment  the  record  of  his  lapse,  and  she 
stood  as  mourner  for  him  at  the  burial  with  all  the 
proper  form.  But  afterwards  I  had  held  the  hope  that 


The  Way  of  the  North  317 

when  I  met  her  she  would  give  to  me  some  word  in 
recognition  of  my  claim.  On  the  contrary,  when  the 
meeting  came,  it  went  again  and  left  no  sign  for  me 
beyond  the  smart  that  told  that  I  at  least  had  felt. 
She  let  me  come  to  her  and  was  cheerful  and  demure, 
and  for  a  moment's  space  I  held  her  hand.  But  at  no 
time  in  her  manner  was  there  the  old  heartiness  and 
warmth,  and  she  let  me  go  away  with  the  bitter  feeling 
in  my  heart  that  she  held  me  wholly  outside  her  reserve. 
So  disturbed  was  I  by  these  things  which  had  occurred 
that  I  could  not  keep  the  matter  to  myself  and  went  to 
Peter  Nicolaievitch  for  advice. 

"Let  her  alone,"  he  said,  "and  she  will  be  all  right. 
She  knows  she  can  have  you  any  time  she  wants,  and 
she  does  not  know  you  heard  the  quarrel  with  Alexei 
Yegorovitch  on  that  last  night.  What  she  is  doing  is 
saving  her  reputation  for  constancy  at  the  expense  of 
her  love,  and  when  she  has  allowed  a  proper  margin  for 
propriety,  I'll  stake  my  head  that  she  will  let  you  know. 
But  in  the  meantime,  take  her  strictly  at  her  word." 

The  advice  was  good,  and  though  at  times  it  strained 
me  almost  to  the  breaking  point,  I  have  followed  it 
religiously  until  this  time.  I  have  met  her  frankly  and 
without  constraint  and  have  been  properly  assiduous 
in  her  care,  but  never  by  word  or  look  have  I  come 
across  the  line  of  ordinary  fellowship,  and  have  made 
no  sign  that  I  was  holding  her  as  needful  in  my  life. 

It  has  been  a  long  wait  I  have  had  for  the  word  to 
come  from  her  and  I  have  spent  much  time  in  speculation 
as  to  in  what  way  I  might  reasonably  look  for  it  to 
come.  At  first  there  was  that  in  her  observation  of 
my  conduct  which  was  very  near  surprise,  but  I  think 
she  was  grateful  that  I  saw  and  stood  aside.  Later  the 


318  The  Way  of  the  North 

surprise  gave  way  to  a  look  of  puzzled  inquiry  and  1 
think  she  wondered  that  I  thus  remained  aloof. 

With  my  mind  once  set  upon  this  plan  I  would  not 
speak  until  I  felt  she  gave  to  me  some  glimpse  of  her  own 
heart;  and  so  I  have  stood  stoutly  out  and  let  her  see  no 
spark  of  all  the  fire  that  has  been  consuming  me  within. 
Yet  more  than  once  I  have  been  perilously  near  to  speech, 
and  it  was  finally  because  within  the  week  she  has 
drooped  with  some  little  sickness  that  I  forswore  myself 
and  made  an  end  of  my  resolve.  Seeing  her  pale  dis 
turbed  me,  so  that  my  heart  smote  me  that  I  had 
thrown  on  her  the  burden  of  the  choice,  and  I  suddenly 
determined  to  wait  no  longer,  but  do  my  speaking  and 
throw  myself  at  once  upon  the  fortune  of  the  chance. 

It  was  this  morning,  therefore,  with  intention,  that  I 
stood  outside  the  stockade  and  waited  till  she  came  out 
for  her  daily  morning  walk.  She  did  not  see  me  and 
I  did  not  speak,  but  lagging  behind,  I  followed  her  as 
she  went  out  across  the  village  and  took  the  path  that 
led  to  the  great  hill  behind  the  post.  It  was  a  favourite 
walk  of  hers  and  I  knew  where  I  should  find  her  at  the 
end,  so  I  curbed  my  haste  and  contented  myself  with 
the  occasional  glimpse  of  her  that  came  to  me  as  she 
passed  some  sunny  spot  between  the  trees. 

When  I  did  come  upon  her,  she  was  standing  at  the 
lookout  station  at  the  top  and  gazing  westward  out 
across  the  sea.  The  fog  was  low  and  lay  like  a  fleecy 
blanket  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach;  and  beyond  the 
mouth  of  the  inlet,  where  the  hills  on  the  northern 
point  stood  out  like  green  islands  above  the  sea  of  mist, 
I  saw,  distinct  and  clear,  the  three  masts  of  a  ship. 

It  was  this  she  was  watching  and  so  intent  was  she 
upon  the  view,  that  she  did  not  hear  me  until  I  was 


The  Way  of  the  North  319 

fairly  at  her  side.  Then  she  caught  the  sound  of  my 
footsteps  and  looked  hastily  around  and  as  she  faced 
me  I  saw  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  She  put  out 
her  hand  to  me  without  surprise  and  almost  as  if  she 
had  expected  me  to  come. 

"See  the  ship,  Fedor  Kirilovitch,"  she  said  with  her 
emotion  trembling  in  her  voice.  "It  is  the  Ekaterina 
that  brought  us  here  six  months  ago.  They  told  me 
below  that  I  could  see  it  from  this  point.  It  is  the  first 
time  since  our  bringing  that  she  has  come  back."  I 
took  the  hand  she  offered  and  held  it  as  we  stood  to 
look.  It  seemed  so  natural  a  thing  to  stand  there  with 
her  that  it  did  not  come  to  me  to  be  even  astonished 
or  afraid. 

"  Is  the  ship,  then,  so  bitter  a  memory  that  the  thought 
of  it  still  brings  the  tears?"  I  said,  keeping  my  eyes 
from  her  and  looking  out  across  the  sea.  She  shook  her 
head  sharply  as  if  to  rid  herself  of  the  troubles  that  lay 
behind  her  gaze  and  turned  her  face  wistfully  up  to  mine. 

"It  is  a  bit  of  homesickness,  I  suppose,"  she  said 
tremulously.  "  I  wras  thinking  of  the  things  I  had  then 
that  have  vanished  for  me  now,  and  such  memories  are 
always  sorry  things." 

"You  have  lost  much,"  I  assented  and  took  tighter 
hold  upon  her  hand. 

"But  it  is  not  all  bad,"  she  added  earnestly.  "This 
at  least  has  come  to  me  out  of  my  trouble,  that  I  shall 
always  have  you  as  a  friend." 

"And  only  as  a  friend?"  I  asked,  my  courage 
rising  with  her  kindly  words.  She  did  not  immediately 
answer  but  looked  again  steadily  out  across  the  sea. 
When  she  did  turn  back  to  me,  her  eyes  were  once  more 
brimming  with  her  tears. 


320  The  Way  of  the  North 

"Why  should  you  want  me,  Fedor,"  she  said  humbly, 
"knowing  what  I  have  been  to  Alexei  Yegorovitch  and 
having  between  us  the  shadow  of  his  love  ?  " 

"Alexei  Yegorovitch  is  dead,"  I  answered  stoutly, 
"and  there  is  no  dishonour  in  standing  in  his  shoes.  I 
do  want  you  with  my  whole  heart  and  if  I  find  no  bar 
in  what  has  passed,  it  seems  to  me  the  matter  should  not 
count  with  you.  When  it  all  happened  you  were  very 
young,  and,  besides,  from  the  time  we  were  on  the  ship, 
I  do  not  believe  you  have  loved  anyone  but  me." 

"Perhaps,"  she  answered  softly.  "I  know  for  a  long 
time  my  conscience  never  gave  me  any  peace."  I  drew 
her  round  so  she  faced  me  and  took  her  other  hand. 

"Anna,"  I  said,  "do  you  remember  that  of  your  own 
free  will  you  gave  to  me  the  promise  that  whatever 
came  to  you  in  life,  I  should  always  have  a  place  upon 
your  hearth?"  She  listened  passively  with  her  eyes 
bent  down. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"And  would  you  break  that  promise  now,  simply 
because  the  providing  of  the  hearth  must  fall  to  me? 
There  is  no  other  way  the  promise  can  be  kept."  She 
hesitated  just  a  moment  in  some  last  struggle  with  her 
self,  but  when  she  looked  up  at  me  there  was  a  full 
surrender  in  her  eyes. 

"You  know  I  would  not,  Fedor,"  she  said,  lifting 
up  her  face,  and  in  another  moment  I  had  her  in  my 
arms. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE   UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


NOV  1  5  1943 


DECS 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
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